


Patchwork

by MeriKG



Series: Threadbare [5]
Category: Glee
Genre: F/F, M/M, slave!Blaine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-27
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-16 16:55:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 16
Words: 51,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5833312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeriKG/pseuds/MeriKG
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So, this is a time jump of roughly three years after the events of Threadbare.  This story won't make a lot of sense if you haven't read the first one. </p>
<p>Someone is hunting for Blaine, and means to acquire him no matter what.  And if famous fashion designer Kurt Hummel is hurt in the process, well, he can live with that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. What the Heck Happened to Blaine:  a prequel

**Author's Note:**

> A reviewer once asked me "What the heck happened to Blaine, anyway?" Only they used all caps. You just can't ignore all caps. So, with just a little ado, here is a prequel. I wrote it before we had a name for Blaine's mother. And I really like the cannon Pam Anderson character so I didn't change my version of Blaine's mom, who isn't quite as awesome. I decided it was best to keep my Evelyn Anderson as she is.
> 
> *Fair warning, this first chapter is not a happy story and can be a little graphic.*

James Anderson watched as his wife courteously escorted the IRS agent to the door with just a tad more haste than traditional decorum dictated. It was a strategically sound decision on her part; James was nearly out of his trademark stoicism. 

She returned a moment later and proceeded to fix them both a coffee. If he noticed she was making it Irish, James chose to not to comment. If ever there was a time for whisky, this would be it. Bringing the matching artisan mugs over, Evelyn slid one before her husband and sat patiently, giving him a moment to collect himself. 

"That went about as expected," he told her finally.

"I imagined as much, given what I'd heard and the bloody daggers you were shooting at that woman's back when I saw her out." Evelyn paused to take a long sip of her coffee. "So, how bad is it?"

"Bad enough," James replied wearily. "Although they haven't confirmed any intention to press charges against me. The paper trail suggests that I had no knowledge of the tax fraud, and since I certainly never saw a penny of it, they're currently inclined to let it drop. Although she made it clear that it was still a possibility pending further evaluation."

Evelyn took her husband's hand, squeezing firmly. "That's something. I don't think I'd enjoy being referred to as 'that woman whose husband was dragged away in irons' to my friends at the club." Despite her glib words, Evelyn was nearly faint with relief that her husband likely wouldn't be facing time in prison. Thus far, it was the only good news they'd received since finding out that their trusted senior accountant was not quite so trustworthy. 

"I didn't watch him as I should have," James commented bleakly. He didn't mention a name, but it was hardly necessary. It was unlikely he was talking about the IRS agent; she'd been about average for the breed. 

"And I wouldn't have expected you to; he was family," Evelyn agreed.

"Distant family. A cousin. I should have known better." 

"Thinking about past oats bakes no bread today. So, what kind of damage are we looking at?" Evelyn was nothing if not pragmatic.

"Enough to thoroughly ruin us. Paying this off will cost us everything, and I don't mean just the family business. We will have to sell all of our properties, including this house, liquidate the stocks for whatever we can dredge out of them, and we'll still owe. Tomas has been committing tax fraud practically since the beginning, and he was close to retirement. Paying all that off, plus the late fines they still haven't finished calculating, and we're looking to spend our golden years in a stunning one bedroom apartment in historic Lima Heights Adjacent." 

Evelyn linked both their hands together over the table, squeezing reassuringly. "We'll get through this. Worst case scenario, we spend time with Cooper in LA while we work on paying off the remaining debt." 

"Cooper?" James barked a bitter laugh. "If that isn't an impossible proposition. Besides the fact that staying with that actor son of ours is completely unacceptable, he's in no position to support the two of us. We've been paying his rent for the last year and half as it is. He hasn't had a decently paying job since those ridiculous commercials. We could easily all find ourselves on the street together." 

"His career will take off any time," Evelyn argued, as she always did when they discussed her first-born pride and joy. "He's such a talented, smart boy. He just needs a little more time to find his feet and settle down with a nice girl." James snorted at that. 

Though he had to admit, if Cooper was good for anything it would be making lovely grandchildren. The infant Cooper's girlfriend was currently carrying would undoubtedly be perfect. James only wished he'd been farsighted enough to head this disaster off and still have something for the child to inherit. 

Cooper had told James the glad news in utmost secrecy a few weeks prior. He intended to ask his girlfriend to marry him and didn't want to ruin the surprise. Given that Evelyn simply could not keep herself off the Facebook, James had been willing to keep the secret for the time being. 

The couple continued to talk quietly for a while longer; trying to formulate a plan now that life as they knew it was essentially ending. James was too old to hold a job with any kind of physicality required, and it was unlikely he'd be hired anywhere for a business management job when he'd been found guilty of tax fraud. The money Evelyn had inherited had almost completely gone into buffering their business during hard times. They'd come out ahead and we're finally back, and doing better then ever before. Scant comfort right now.

The distant sound of the front door opening signaled the arrival of their youngest son home from school. James watched Blaine approach, trying to decide how much he should tell his son. Things had been...odd between them since Blaine's fifteenth birthday last month. James kept meaning to discuss it, but Blaine had been spending a lot of time with his school friend, Nate, and that was about the time James received his first unwelcome notification from the IRS. 

James could see the confusion in Blaine's eyes at finding his parents sitting together at the dining room table in the early afternoon. But before James could say anything, Blaine cleared his throat anxiously. Now that he really looked, James could see how nervous his son appeared. 

Blaine straightened his spine. "Mom, Dad, there's something I need to tell you..."  
****************************

"No." 

"Evelyn..."

"I believe you heard me when I told you 'no," she warned her husband. They were currently in their bedroom, looking over the final information the IRS agent had dropped off earlier. Included with the completed financial analysis was a formal letter stating that the IRS was considering bringing charges against James after all. And then there was the other paperwork, outlining an 'alternate payment option'.

Evelyn sat on their bed, arms crossed, waiting while her husband change into sleep pants. There was not a single thing he could possibly say that would persuade her to take the IRS up on their ludicrous offer. It was out of the question. There was no way she was allowing them to take her son away from her; she didn't care how her husband felt about Blaine's...discovery about himself. He was still their child and she loved him no matter what.

"Evie, please just listen." James sat on the bed next to his wife. He attempted to reach for her hand but she jerked it away. 

"Evelyn, this will fix everything." His voice took on a pleading note. "We'll keep the house, the family business, our retirement fund. Honey, we're too old to flip burgers at McDonalds for nine hours a day."

"At the cost of our son?! Absolutely not. We'll have to figure something else out, because there is no way I will allow Blaine to be taken away." 

James tugged her against him, ignoring her stiff, unyielding posture. "If we don't do this, I'll go to jail and you'll be alone and penniless. Realistically, Blaine will have a challenging life no matter what. You know there's no way he'll hide the fact that he's gay, and trouble will find him sooner or later." He felt her slowly crumpling against him. 

Evelyn sighed into her husband shoulder. When she'd dreamed of her Blaine's future, she'd always thought about what a wonderful father he'd be. If she had to be honest, the news that her son was never going to give her adorable, curly haired grandchildren was devastating. But he was still her baby boy. What was she supposed to do? Evelyn was going to lose someone no matter what. Either her husband would be sent to prison, or Blaine would be taken away forever. 

"Listen, Evie," James continued earnestly. "Blaine is such a gentle boy. He's polite and has excellent manners. Someone will find him and take him into their home, and he'll have a perfectly comfortable life. Maybe even in music. You know how good he is at the piano. He'll find a good place, maybe even safer than his life as an openly gay teenager. And everything will go back to the way it was. The IRS offered a complete blank slate. All charges against me will be dropped, the lost money zeroed out. We wouldn't owe a penny. All we need to do is sign the form. Both of us."

"No. And don't ask me again." Evelyn pulled back and glared at her husband. "There is not a single thing you can say that will make me sign that terrible paper. I'd rather end up a pauper on the street fighting pigeons for bread crumbs."

James nodded in acceptance and to all appearances dropped the subject. They went through the remaining papers together for a while longer, looking for another option that James knew wasn't there. After some time had passed, and they began to ready themselves to go to bed, he decided that now was the time to talk to his wife one more time. He still had had his ace up his sleeve. 

"Cooper called last night," James commented, taking care to sound casual. "Apparently, his last job ended a few weeks ago and he needs us to pay the rent again before he gets evicted."

Of course. Evelyn tensed, waiting for the other shoe to drop. She knew that tone far too well. James wasn't just bringing this up to her out of the blue. 

"He also had some interesting news to share," James continued blithely. "Do you remember that young lady, Jessica, whose been living with him? Apparently, congratulations are in order. She's three months pregnant." 

*****************************

IRS officer Paula Reubens impatiently watched from the air-conditioned front seat of her government issue Prius. She was currently parked across the street from Westerville high school, waiting. She lifted her phone to check the time. This was taking far longer than it needed to.

A short while later she saw her two acquisition agents efficiently dragging a boy with his arms cuffed behind him and a hood over his head out of the back door of the school. Finally. It had taken them long enough. They quickly crossed the street, pulling the boy with them into the back of a large van parked at an empty side street.

Officer Reubens stepped out of her car walked over to the van, climbing inside through a side door. The boy was doubled over on his knees, arms strapped tight at the wrists, elbows, and shoulders to a long metallic bar so that they were fully extended. His hood was already off and one of the agents was just finishing cutting the shirt away, baring the tan skin of the boy's back.

"Easy, Blaine," Officer Reubens ordered to the frantically struggling teenager. Blaine only fought harder. Oh, there was some life in this one. That was good for her.

"Please," Blaine begged as he futilely twisted and pulled at his bindings. "Whoever you are, please let me go. I won't say anything, I promise. My parents are really affluential and well known. You don't want to do this." 

"Oh, I absolutely do," Reuben's replied in amusement. "I had to jump through a number of bureaucratic hoops, not to mention half a dozen coma-inducing dates to get you here." She ran a hand proprietarily down the struggling boy's back. His skin was perfect. 

"They...they have money. If you want ransom.." Blaine began, trembling as he slowed his struggles.

Paula chuckled. "Didn't your parents tell you? They're in serious trouble, Blaine. Your father made a poor choice in accountants. Your family was about to lose everything. But that's all been dealt with, their debt paid in full. Your family is completely off the hook. Actually, my offer was particularly generous, and a relief to all involved parties. Honestly, you should be a little more grateful. I don't go to such lengths for just anyone. 

"Then what do you want?" Blaine asked desperately, his body sagging in its bonds.

Paula smiled, though Blaine couldn't see it from his position. "Silly boy, I would have thought that was obvious. I want you." 

"We're ready," one of the agents called out. "You may want to stand aside, Officer."

The officer shoved a cloth gag into the boy's mouth while his partner pulled a heated iron rod out of its container. The metallic numbers at the tip of the rod glowed red with heat. The man moved the rod to the boy's back, taking care to aim for the square drawn in sharpie at the boy's lower neck, just between his shoulder blades. A moment later he pressed in, ignoring the boy's muffled screams as the numbers were permanently burned into his skin. After counting slowly to five, the agent pulled the rod away, pouring a cup of sterile water over the marks, quickly cooling them to ensure a good scar.

Blaine sagged in his binds, the shock and pain of the burn rendering him unconscious. The agent overseeing the branding process glanced down at the boy's inert body, quickly removing the gag and monitoring his slow, even breathing. Excellent. That had gone perfectly. It was always easier when they passed out. One of these days their department needed to break down and offer some basic medical training so that acquisition officers could simply drug new admissions. It'd be so much more convenient. 

"Okay, his designation numbers are in and he seems to be doing fine," The man reported to the waiting agent. "We'll take him to the Omaha training center from here, but it'll be a while until he goes up for sale. Zero generations always take longer to train up. Most people don't even bother with them anymore." 

Paula knew that. Generally, buyers preferred at least a fifth or sixth generation slave, and they all cost about the same. But the specific clientele she catered to preferred their slaves slightly...fresher.

Blaine roused back to consciousness, shifting in his bonds. He woke faster than most, to the agent's annoyance. The man glanced down at the sobbing boy, before looking across at his partner, who rolled his eyes and made to pinch his nose. They hated doing field branding; the smell of burning flesh filled the whole van and was a bitch to air out. 

Officer Reubens didn't seem to have much of a problem with it; of course she didn't have a long-assed drive ahead of her in the smelly space, the man thought with some annoyance. Bureaucrats. 

"Thank you for the information," she told him cooly, "but I want this one. Do you have an idea when he'll go up for sale?"

The man shrugged. "You have his identification number. Just call the center, leave a small notification fee, and they'll give you a courtesy call 24 hours before he becomes officially available."

"I'll look forward to getting the call." Paula shook hands warmly with the acquisition officers. "Thank you both for your help. I took the liberty of leaving a gift certificate to that big steak house off I-55 on the dash for you both in case you need a break during the drive back." Both men perked up at that, clearly placated.

Paula stepped out and watched the van pulled away, the newest addition to the slave industry neatly tucked inside. The gift card had been a hundred dollars well spent. She knew the importance of leaving a lasting impression, and wanted to make sure those two remembered her fondly in case she needed their services again. Despite the fact that later generations of slaves were most popular, there was a demand for zeros if you knew where to look, and their rarity made them all the more valuable. And this one was so cute. He'd make her a tidy sum at private auction.

Paula returned to her car, turning the engine over to begin the long journey back to the home office. When she'd first met with the Anderson family to discuss the financial situation their accountant had gotten them into, she'd never expected to see a gorgeous boy dancing alone in the second story window. She'd sat in her car for a while, just watching. And she knew right then that he was perfect. 

Persuading her office to offer the trade in exchange for completely clearing the Anderson's record had been a long, uphill struggle. Acquiring zero gens really was an unusual occurrence these days. It wasn't politically popular at all. But she had a lot of seniority at the office and knew the right people to make it happen. Paula had subtly made a number of such acquisitions over the years, quietly building a healthy nest egg for her retirement. She had contacts at the Omaha Rookery that could have that boy out in months if she wanted; it all depended on her buyer's preference.

The IRS officer was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't see the deer jump in front of her car until it was far too late. 

She slammed on the breaks, trying to get the Prius under control as it spun out without success. The compact vehicle snaked along the road, finally sliding front end first down the steep ravine at the side of the road. Officer Reuben's last thought was the realization that she hadn't bothered to buckle her seat belt. The car slammed to a halt when it impacted with several oaks at the bottom of the hill, Paula's head slamming forcefully into steering column. 

******************************

It took two days for someone to notice the crash and call it in. A tow truck was called out, the machine slowly pulling the wreckage of a Prius back up to the highway as police and a coroner pulled up. "I guess what they say about death and taxes really is right," the coroner joked to no one in particular as his assistants loaded the body into his van. 

Later, the hapless police officer tasked with emptying the car noticed the blood-spattered brief case that had been tossed to the back seat. With a sigh, he pulled the messy thing out to check its contents. Seeing that it held a number of official tax documents, he collected the sheets to drop off at the local IRS office. A large manila folder was mixed in with the pages, neatly labeled in black ink: A0919 - 'Blaine'


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And we're back to the future. 3 years after the first Mayflower Fashion Show.

Kurt Hummel, designer extraordinaire and creator of a thriving clothing label, leaned back in his comfy office chair and sighed wearily. Success, as it turned out, was exhausting. But he was finally done for the day. Kurt was just contemplating the enormous effort involved in rising from his desk to head home when he instantly perked up, remembering what day it was. He was up in a flash, haphazardly loading his paperwork into his shoulder bag when he caught a hint of motion out of the corner of his eye.

Kurt turned his head to watch as a shadow flitted across the door to his office. A moment later, Kurt's receptionist warily poked her head around the corner. Oh hell, no. Whatever she wanted, he wasn't doing it. 

"Mr. Hummel, you have one more last minute appointment in 15 minutes," she reported formally.

"What?!" No. Absolutely not. Kurt drew himself up to his full height, bestowing his most formidable scowl on the young woman at his office door. "There's nothing in my calendar, and that wasn't an accident. Tell me, Dani, do you have any concept of the definition of 'Date Night?"

"Yes, Kurt. Despite working for you for two years, I still have a passing familiarity with the term," Dani, Kurt's skilled and long-suffering personal assistant, agreed patiently. "I've already called your better half and gotten permission for you to work late. He was fine with it." 

"What if I don't want to work late? And just because Blaine was all sweetness and light with you does not mean that I won't be getting into all kinds of trouble when I get home," Kurt argued. 

"I suspect you're exaggerating. Anyway, the client will be here any minute and it's just a quick face to face. And once you see him, you'll totally forgive me."

Kurt grumbled to himself. Unless it was George Clooney and Brad Pitt requesting matching tuxes for a secret elopement, he wasn't interested. "Suddenly, I think I'm going to need Santana all next week," he called tauntingly as the receptionist ducked away. "Tell her to plan on staying at my house."

Dani reappeared in the room as if by magic. "Try it. I may become so distraught that your entire address book could accidentally be deleted." She shot her boss a bright 'bite-me' smile before returning to her desk.

Game, set, and match to the roller-girl. Dani was lucky she was such a kick-ass receptionist, Kurt decided. Not that it really mattered; Blaine adored her, so she clearly wasn't going anywhere. As he waited for the last minute appointment that he had NOT agreed to, Kurt darkly pondered the current situation. By all accounts, he should be home, curled around his beautiful, sexy, model boyfriend right now, not spending yet another late night in his office.

"Mr. Hummel, your 6:30 is here," Dani's voice clicked over speakerphone. 

"Thank you, please show him in," he replied with his standard professionalism. It wasn't the client's fault that Kurt was still at the office.

Dani reappeared a moment later, escorting a tall, dark haired man. Kurt rose from behind his desk and took one step toward the client before he froze. So.Fucking.Hot. He had the bluest eyes Kurt had ever seen and, while he was generally partial to warm brown, these were...well, guh. Dark hair framed a gorgeously expressive face. The client wore a dark blue cashmere sweater that did amazing things for his eyes and slid silkily along his skin with every movement, clinging in just the right places and hinting at the muscle underneath. The man had a fedora in one hand and reached out to shake Kurt's hand with the other. 

Kurt was too shocked to respond for a minute, before he caught himself and hastily stepped forward to shake the man's outstretched hand. What was wrong with him? Kurt worked with half naked models all the time, for God's sake. The camera ready smile the man flashed at him said he got that reaction all the time and didn't take Kurt's response, or lack thereof, personally. 

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Hummel. I appreciate you seeing me at the last minute like this," the client replied in a smooth, warm tenor. Kurt briefly wondered if the man sang.

"It is absolutely no problem," Kurt replied, and damnit, he meant every word. "Please, call me Kurt. I generally prefer to be on a first name basis with people who are about to take most their clothes off for me." The line tripped easily from his tongue without embarrassment; it was one of his standard icebreakers. The man chuckled appreciatively.

"This will only take a few minutes, anyway." Kurt told him with a polite smile. "By the time you get to me, my staff has most of your information handled. If you care to tell me what you'd like me to design for you, I'll get your measurements and I should be able to have a few potential sketches for you in the next few weeks." 

"Fair enough." The man pulled off his sweater without fanfare, clearly accustomed to fittings; revealing that yes; he did have a strikingly defined six-pack beneath the fabric. Kurt pulled out a measuring tape and got to work while he took in the client's order.

"I have a movie premiere coming up early next month and I need a few different suits. One for the red carpet for certain, and a few more casual looks for press promos and the after party. 3-4 would be ideal." 

"That shouldn't be a problem. Standard protocol is to comp the red carpet suit, provided you don't intend to keep it, and you mention who you're wearing in front of the cameras," Kurt explained as he worked. Don't stare at his ass, don't stare at his ass.

"I'd rather just pay so I can keep it, if you don't mind. I think I'd like to own something of Kurt Hummel's. And I'll still be glad to name drop," the man replied, arm lifted so that Kurt could move to his torso. 

Kurt made an agreeable noise as professional detachment finally kicked in and he was able to whip the measuring tape smoothly around the actor with his usual aplomb. A few quick minutes later and he had the numbers he'd need to get started. On a different day. One that wasn't when he was supposed to be at home.

"Okay. I should have all I need, Mr....oh, I'm so sorry. I'm sure my receptionist told me your name but I totally blanked. I've had a long day." Kurt smiled apologetically.

"Completely understandable. Please, call me Cooper."


	3. Chapter 3

Cooper Anderson walked to his car, mentally checking one task off his list. He'd made solid contact with Kurt Hummel. Cooper forced away the budding optimism, deciding it was best to stay skeptical until he had more information. This still had a very strong possibility of being a dead end.

Cooper had been searching for his baby brother for years; ever since he'd figured out that Blaine hadn't actually been on a school trip to the UK and that his parents had done something unforgivable. Between assuming responsibility as a husband, father to his beautiful twins, and his desperate need to find Blaine, much of the goofy cheer that had been a fundamental trademark of Cooper's personality had faded, giving way to maturity and responsibility. Jessi told him that while she missed 'silly him', she appreciated the man he'd become as well. 

Apparently, acute loss of innocence was a good look for him. His acting career had finally taken off. Cooper was a popular supporting actor, working well with more famous names without trying to steal scenes. Though he tended to, anyway. His agent told him if he was a little less attractive he could be the next William H. Macy. Cooper replied that since there's already one of those, why would he want to try and be that? And as it turned out, he didn't have to. In a few weeks the new movie would be released and Cooper would find out if he was leading man material. 

Over the many years since Blaine had been taken, Cooper had recruited a number of private detectives to hunt for his baby brother. But the paperwork surrounding Blaine's acquisition was a muddled mess. 'FUBAR' one of the detectives had told him, suggesting that Cooper would do best to just accept the loss. Cooper found himself a different PI after that. And then another when that man failed.

One of the more successful trackers was a recent hire. A friend of Cooper's had referred the woman, though after 5 minutes in her presence, he considered the decidedly odd detective unlikely to be of help. It didn't take her long to change his opinion. And while she was certainly one of the most unusual investigators he'd worked with, Cooper couldn't fault her results. 

She got back to him within a week of being hired with proof that his brother's paperwork showed evidence of being buried. It was perfectly legal, Doris Sylvester had told him, but it made the trail difficult to track. She explained how hiding that kind of thing was easy enough to do if you were already in the system and used actual paper, leaving the details out of the computer system. Doris seemed confident that she'd unravel it, and pursued the case with dogmatic intensity. Cooper couldn't help but feel some encouragement. She'd already turned up more than any of the other people he'd hired, and she hadn't even mentioned giving up. Cooper's faint burst of hope slowly died as a month passed without a word from the intrepid P.I.

All of that had changed two weeks ago. Doris called him out of the blue to inform him that she had a potential trail. It was weak, she warned, but she knew he'd want to hear if she twigged to anything at all. Cooper had sent Doris a healthy bonus and told her to bring him whatever she found. Then he'd canceled his appointments for the day, gone home, and cuddled with Jessica and the kids all night. His wife really was his rock, and had supported him throughout his search, grieving with him at every false trail over the brother she'd never met. 

Doris had caught up with him three days ago between his movie interviews at a coffee shop. She had a folder with her, which was more evidence than Cooper had seen since he started his search. He accepted the coffee she pushed across to him, eyes glued to neatly-labeled manilla by her hand. 

"Tell me."

She nodded, appreciating the down-to-business attitude. Who had time for niceties? Doris opened the folder, revealing a stained and faded photocopy. Cooper slid the paper over, eyes widening at what he read. It was a proof of purchase with Blaine's black and white photo, description, and designation number listed below. 

Cooper stared, touching the worn-out document reverently. "Where did you find this?" A number, he finally had Blaine's number. That was huge.

"Where' is irrelevant. What does matter is that it appears your brother was purchased approximately 5 years ago by this hotel. I travelled there with a picture to see if anyone recognized him, but no one did. The managers don't pay a lot of attention to that side of the business. I went down and interviewed the slaves, but they're only kept to 23 years of age then rotated out for newer stock. There was no one was left who could remember him." 

It wouldn't have occurred to Cooper to even ask the slaves, and it should have. He'd had to change his previous beliefs about slavery fairly abruptly. It was easy when you found yourself staring at the face of every short, curly haired male with his head bowed and wearing a collar, wondering if that could be your brother. 

"You don't by any chance have a guess what type of function he would have had at the hotel?" Cooper asked warily. 'Tell me he'd been a room cleaner, or in laundry' he thought to himself.

Doris sighed. She'd decided against bringing that up unless her client specifically asked. "That particular hotel has employees for most of the day-to-day tasks. They only buy pleasure slaves." 

Cooper lost his grip on his coffee, not noticing when Doris caught it before it could fall to the floor. His brother? Sweet, bright-eyed, intelligent, gifted Blaine had been made into a sex-toy. God, he'd just turned 15 years old when their goddamn parents had sold him. Cooper couldn't breathe. If there had been any remote chance he'd someday forgive his parents for what they'd done, that possibility had officially flown right out the fucking window.

"Doris," he choked out, trying desperately to regain some semblance of self-control. "Tell me you have more for me." 

"I have more for you." 

Oh, thank God. Cooper forced himself to calm down and listen.

"As I said, no one at the hotel remembers him, but the manager who directly purchased Blaine was listed on the original receipt. She was significantly easier to track down then a misplaced slave and actually remembered him. She was more than willing to talk to me for a nice bottle of wine. I've emailed you the receipt."

Copper waved that off. 

"The woman only remembered him because she hadn't realized he was gay when she first bought him and had gotten some heat over that mistake. She didn't know where he might have gone from there; she'd found different employment by the time he was sold. But from that conversation I had confirmation that I was on the right track. And since she knew his approximate age on the year he was purchased, I was able to form a timeline around when Blaine would have been theirs. In addition, she told me what batches of financial reports I should check to find a 'miscellaneous sale." Doris briefly stopped talking when the server appeared with her sandwich.

"I broke into the hotel's records a few nights ago and went through them until I found all the miscellaneous charges in that time frame and crosschecked those for a potential buyer," the PI continued, after taking a few bites of her turkey on whole wheat with avocado.

"Couldn't you have just asked to see the records?" Cooper asked weakly. He hadn't really thought about accruing criminal charges.

"Oh probably, but that would take time. And there's always a chance they'd say 'no.' This was much more efficient." 

"Okay." Cooper decided to let it go. "And..." Cooper encouraged Doris to continue, forcing himself not to rip the sandwich away.

Doris pushed the folder across the table over to him, swallowing her latest bite. "And, I think I found him."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have a beta, so feel free to drop me a note of anyone catches typos. Thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder, this takes place years after Threadbare so the guys are very sexually active and secure with each other. *Here lies smut.*  
> I guess I should put a little warning for rough sex? It's not what I'd consider 'rough' per se, but face fucking is involved.

Kurt politely shook his client's hand as their meeting concluded. That had gone surprisingly well for a last minute fit-in, he reflected. Cooper had walked out of his office, to all appearances pleased and anticipating a call from Kurt's receptionist with updates. 

Kurt sat on the edge of his desk, rubbing his temples. He looked wearily up at the sound of someone entering his office, expecting the client had returned for something, and pasted his 'professional face' back on. The polite facade dissolved into a much more genuine, million-watt smile as the single most beautiful thing on the planet strolled into his office. And just like that, Kurt forgot about actor what's-his-name, who'd only minutes ago stood nearly naked in his office. 

"Keep looking at me like that and I may consider forgiving you for standing me up," Blaine teased as he sauntered in and wrapped his arms around his boyfriend's neck. 

"I'm so, so sorry, honey. I had no intention of it, I swear. Dani booked me without asking. I promise I'll make it up to you."

"Mhmm," Blaine replied noncommittally as he pushed his knee between Kurt's thighs, spreading them to make room for his body. Blaine pressed in close, planting a chaste kiss on his owner's lips. Blaine began massaging Kurt's shoulders, chuckling when Kurt dropped his head to rest on Blaine's chest with a low moan.

"I don't deserve you," Kurt told him, whimpering slightly as Blaine expertly worked out the tension knots.

Blaine chuckled again. "Not today, you don't. Fortunately, you get me anyway. And we're ordering pizza tonight."

"Blaiinee," Kurt's muffled whine sounded from against the model's shirt. Kurt's head popped up a moment later. "Do you have any idea how many fats and carbs are in that? I'll turn into a blimp."

"I find that very unlikely," Blaine replied, eyeing his lover's trim body. "And since you're the one who's responsible for ruining our dinner reservation, I'm pretty sure it's my call." He leaned in close. "And really, we both know the only reason that you're complaining is so I'll promise to help you work off the calories." 

Blaine's hands continued to work their magic on the exhausted shoulders of his owner and lover. After a few blissful moments, Blaine decided he should stop before Kurt turned into a puddle of goo incapable of motion, backing away enough to let Kurt stand. Instead of getting up from his perch, Kurt reached forward and slipped a finger into the D-ring of Blaine's collar, pulling him back into his arms. 

Blaine allowed himself to be tugged. If he didn't, the collar's buckle would snap open. He fleetingly thought back to when Kurt was bothered by seeing the leather strap around Blaine's neck. After years of being together, they'd both had to make adjustments to make their unlikely relationship work. That had included the collar. He wore it whenever he wanted, though these days that was rare when he was at home; he typically didn't feel the need. 

And Kurt, well, he'd figured out that the accessory made an excellent handle when he felt his lover was too far away. Though it was always hit or miss whether Kurt would get an armful of boyfriend or a handful of leather, depending on whether Blaine felt like allowing himself to be pulled around. Either one was generally a win for Kurt, since Blaine usually only chose to trigger the trick-catch when he had something different, but equally fun in mind.

"Where do you think you're going, Mister? We still have some serious kissing to do," Kurt murmured once he had Blaine's warm body back against his where it belonged. 

"Oh, really?" Blaine asked coyly. He leaned in, pressing his mouth against his lover's. God, he would never get used to this; Kurt's lips felt like rightness, and heat, and home. 

They lightly made out for a few perfect minutes before Blaine noticed something hard pressed against his hip. "Is that fabric scissors in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?" he purred. Kurt snorted a laugh as Blaine reached between them, unbuttoning his owner's pants and tugging at the fabric suggestively.

"Oh, hell no. You know I'm not doing this in my office, so you can just forget it. We can survive the five-minute walk back to the house. You know, where the giant, soft bed lives?"

Blaine's hand continued to work at Kurt's zipper. "I'm sorry; am I the one who cancelled date night? I believe that I'm owed some restitution here." Blaine grinned victoriously when Kurt slid his butt off the desk, allowing Blaine to pull the fabric down his hips. This had always a fantasy of Blaine's, and until now Kurt had point blank refused to do 'sex stuff' at work.

"Restitution? Sweetie, you've been spending way too much time around Wesley."

"You have a lot of new contracts coming through. He needs the help," Blaine replied unrepentantly. And if they spent as much time goofing off as they did managing KH Designs, well that was why Wes was the senior attorney. There were interns to handle the minutiae, Wes had told him in his best 'stuffy prep school' voice, and mini-golf with Blaine was a much higher priority as far as he was concerned. The slave had opted not to argue, though he did ask if they could try laser-tag some time. Wes had agreed, with the caveat that Blaine never bring Kitten along.

Kurt's schedule was not as flexible. It was award show season and a number of big names had expressed an interest in wearing one of Kurt's designs down the red carpet. It had been a stressful few weeks, Blaine knew. Kurt had spent too many nights in a row crawling into bed with him long after Blaine had drifted off to sleep. Which was why they'd both been looking forward to having a night to themselves. 

Well, better late then never, Blaine decided. And if Kurt was too strung out and exhausted to put up his usual fight, Blaine was not above taking advantage.

Blaine slid to his knees, successfully pulling Kurt's tight pants and briefs with him as he descended, an art that had taken Blaine more than a few tries to get the hang of. He breathed against Kurt's rapidly thickening erection. "I missed you," he murmured, licking slowly, just the way he knew Kurt loved.

"And I, God, Blaine...missed you so much. Please babe, don't tease."

Blaine was so going to tease. This was his fantasy, after all. And so far it was even better than he'd imagined. But he wouldn't do it for very long. Not when Kurt gasped his name like that. He played a little longer, interposing nibbling kisses along the shaft with soft little kitten licks.

"Since you said 'please," Blaine murmured, once he had Kurt shaking and whimpering. He opened his mouth wide, slowly sinking down onto Kurt's cock until his lips reached the base. He slowly worked his way back up the shaft, sucking gently and reaching up to stroke Kurt's balls with one hand. Kurt's fingers automatically tightened against his curls at the sensation, tugging sharply. Blaine whined low in his throat, deciding to abandon teasing and push for something he just realized that he needed even more.

He pulled off Kurt's cock, and began slow, deliberate strokes with one hand that were designed to make his lover crazy. "Kurt, please fuck my mouth. Will you, baby? Please?" Blaine looked up into Kurt's lust darkened gaze, begging softly with his eyes, his body, and his words. "Please?" 

Kurt took a deep breath. He knew that particular tone in Blaine's voice; what his lover was really asking for. Sometimes Blaine wanted, needed really, to feel owned, to feel Kurt claiming his body, reminding Blaine where he belonged. Sweet and gentle had its place of course, but Kurt knew his lover, knew that Blaine wasn't looking for that kind of lovemaking at the moment. It wasn't a complete surprise, considering Kurt's long hours and time away from home, that the slave needed this type of physical reinforcement right now. Kurt gripped Blaine's hair, locking his fingers into the silky curls and tugging a little. He felt Blaine's hands come to rest on Kurt's thighs as the slave leaned forward eagerly. 

Blaine relaxed into his owner's strong hold, knowing that Kurt had understood what he was asking for, that he was going to give Blaine what he needed. He waited patiently for orders, his cock throbbing eagerly between his legs where he knelt. 

"Open up, then," Kurt commanded in a dark whisper. Blaine's eye drifted closed and he opened his mouth wide, whimpering when Kurt's cock slid in. Kurt didn't hesitate, setting a fast pace as he thrust into Blaine's eager mouth, though he didn't push very deeply. Not yet, anyway. He'd work Blaine up to that. After several rapid strokes, he slowed his hips, pushing increasingly deeper with each measured thrust, watching intently as Blaine readily swallowed his cock to the hilt. 

"You like that, lover? I know you must, since you take it so good for me," Kurt murmured in that same bedroom voice. Blaine's broken moan spoke volumes. Now that he was sure that Blaine was ready, Kurt started pumping rapidly, making him deep throat each time.

Blaine whined in approval, attempting to lean forward even more to meet each sharp thrust. Kurt's hands tightened in his hair, holding Blaine's head in place while Kurt continued to take his mouth fast and deep. Kurt could feel Blaine's fingers digging into the skin of his thighs as he took his face fucking. Kurt was sure to have bruises after this and he didn't care one bit. He was well aware how much Blaine loved seeing his marks against Kurt's pale skin. 

Kurt pulled out for a second, giving Blaine a chance to breathe, cough a little, and rest his jaw. "You're so good for me, aren't you?" He purred as he ran his fingers through Blaine's curls. "So mine."

Blaine's eyes leaked tears from the deep throating, and saliva coated his reddened face, dripping down his chin in thin rivulets. His chest heaved as Blaine fought to catch his breath. He looked absolutely wrecked. And if Kurt didn't know that Blaine loved this, even needed it once in a while, he'd be horrified by his own actions. 

"I really am," Blaine whispered hoarsely in response to Kurt's words. "All yours." Blaine leaned forward, nuzzling against the erection jutting so enticingly in front of him. "Please Master, do it again?" 

Kurt was expecting the 'M' word. It was nearly inevitable when he strong-armed his boyfriend like this. And the word lacked the painful impact on him that it had at the beginning of their relationship. Blaine couldn't help it, and Kurt didn't want him to have to police his words, especially during times like this when he was meant to be able to completely let go. The partners had talked extensively about Blaine's perchance for calling Kurt 'sir' or 'master' during the height of intimacy. It wasn't something Blaine could control without having to constantly be aware of what he was saying, and Blaine swore to Kurt that he always knew where he was, and that he could stop everything any time he wanted. It was enough for Kurt. They knew what they were to each other, and it was okay. And really, Blaine begging, any which way, was always hot.

"You want it again, do you?" Kurt murmured, pitching his voice low. "Then open wide; show me how badly that sweet mouth of yours wants to take my cock." 

Kurt could say some things, though this was taking him nearly to the limit of his comfort zone for dirty talk. But it was so hot, and Blaine looked so wrecked; it felt right. And right now it was clearly working for Blaine. He whimpered in anticipation, opening his mouth as directed. 

Kurt generally wasn't much for sex talk. That was more Blaine's purview. The slave could murmur sweet, dirty things in Kurt's ear until his owner was panting, rock hard, and seconds away from climax. Blaine had deliberately brought Kurt to orgasm with his words alone on more than one occasion, which Kurt would have no problem with if only Blaine didn't generally choose to do it when they were in public together.

Tightening his fingers in Blaine's hair once again, Kurt slid his cock between the waiting lips, paused, then began slamming hard and fast. He couldn't wait any more, and the noises coming from the man between his legs suggested Blaine was just as needy. 

"That's it, Blaine. God you're perfect. You take it so good for me," Kurt's words were broken, interspaced between breathy moans, ultimately dissolving into groans and panting whispers of Blaine's name. 

Feeling Kurt's hips begin to stutter, Blaine tightened his grip on Kurt's thighs, dragging him in close until Kurt's cock slammed the back of his throat. He felt the burst of come as Blaine took him deep, swallowing methodically as Kurt's cock pulsed and throbbed in his mouth. He locked his arms, holding Kurt still when the designer would have fallen back and pulled out, stubbornly sucking as much as he could from him. Finally, Kurt whimpered as sensitivity peaked and Blaine reluctantly let the softening cock slip from his lips with a soft 'pop.' 

He settled back on his haunches, watching Kurt gasp for breath and shiver as he came down from the rocking orgasm. Blaine couldn't help but feel a swell of pride in knowing he'd done that to his lover. Nothing instilled confidence in him quite like overwhelming Kurt with pleasure like this. Blaine absently swiped at some of the moisture coating his face. 

As soon as Kurt was sufficiently recovered to trust his legs to support him, he shucked his pants off the rest of the way and walked to the small in-office bathroom to grab a warm washcloth. He returned a minute later, seeing Blaine in the same spot, waiting patiently. Blaine enjoyed being pampered after that kind of sex, and Kurt needed the opportunity to take care of him, to know his lover was okay and that they were good. 

He knelt across from Blaine, delicately pressing the soft warm cloth over his eyes, wiping away the tear tracks. Blaine closed his eyes at the gentle touch, humming in pleasure.

"You okay, baby?" Kurt's lips followed the trail of the cloth, pressing soft kisses over Blaine's face.

 

"I'm fine, love," Blaine paused as the cloth made its way down and across his saliva drenched chin and neck. "I think we both needed a little intensity right now."

"And it has nothing to do with you getting your way about sex in my office, which I told you I'd never do," Kurt asked in amusement. 

"I'll call it a bonus. Do I look clean?" Blaine asked. 

Kurt dabbed a fluffy dry towel over the slave's face. "Looks good. So, we're going home and getting pizza, then?"

Blaine laughed as he stood and stretched, offering Kurt a hand up. "Now you're just trying to turn me on. I'll order now so it's ready when we get there." He had an app for that. Blaine pulled out his phone, typing quickly while Kurt dressed. 

"Speaking of turned on," Kurt commented after Blaine had finished ordering. He nudged his knee against Blaine's obvious hard on. 

"Nuh uh, you. Dinner first, I'm starving." Blaine backed away. "But I was thinking, after we get a little food in us..."

"Yesss?" Kurt asked curiously. 

"After that, I was thinking, maybe I could make love to you tonight."

Kurt's eyes widened slightly at that. Blaine didn't top often, not that Kurt objected to switching. Blaine was just more comfortable as bottom, generally riding Kurt when he wanted control of their lovemaking. And Kurt, well, he simply wanted Blaine. He didn't worry overly about the 'how' part.

"Or, we could grab a quick snack and the pizza can wait in the oven while we work up our appetites," Kurt suggested, letting Blaine hear in his voice just how into that idea he was. 

"You just don't want to do the work tonight." Blaine smirked, meeting Kurt's lust-darkened eyes as he pulled his lover against his body. "Have I told you recently that I love you?" 

"It's been a while; you may need to remind me," Kurt told him seriously, though his blue-grey eyes twinkled with mischief.

Blaine tightened his arms around him, and leaned in, kissing slow and deep, letting his tongue slide into Kurt's mouth the way Kurt's cock had so recently plundered his. When they were both out of breath, Blaine reluctantly pulled away, resting his forehead against Kurt's. "Kurt Hummel, I love you. So much."

Kurt's smile was so bright it broke Blaine's heart and rebuilt it a second later. He'd never dreamed someone could look at him like that. Like he was their whole world. 

"I love you, too."

Arm in arm they both left the office to make the short walk back to their home.

Neither man noticed the lone car parked in a distant corner of the small parking lot.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Umm, warnings: mention of prior non-con, and lots of swearing.

Cooper strode purposefully back to his car, intending to return directly to the rental house he and his family were currently occupying. After his informative meeting with Doris nearly week ago, Cooper had decided to rent a place closer to Hummel's office. It was more efficient then making the 3-hour drive from their current home to the office for however many times he'd need to. In addition, Cooper needed to be close and accessible. Who knew when he'd get an opportunity to get close to Blaine? Despite his best intentions, Cooper found himself believing Blaine was here. He knew it was probably just desperation, but he couldn't help it. This was the closest Cooper had been to his brother in years.

Of course, he hadn't expected to have his family with him at all. He didn't feel it was right to uproot his wife and the kids for what was in all probability another false trail. Jessi felt differently. When Cooper explained his intentions, she'd brightly agreed, stating that this was a great opportunity for a family vacation. Cooper had tried telling his wife that it wasn't a good idea, that there wouldn't be much 'vacationing' involved, but she'd booked them a small house on the outskirts of L.A. while Cooper was still in the midst of his argument. Cooper gave in with good grace at that point, even if he didn't admit to her how relieved he was that she would be with him.

After some consideration, Cooper decided to ask Doris to stay out of things with Hummel for the moment. If Blaine really was here, Cooper wanted everything to be completely above board and Doris had a habit of landing on the wrong side of the 'grey area' when it came to legalities. She had acquiesced readily enough, telling him to let her know if he changed his mind. If Hummel did have his brother, and refused to sell him, Cooper may just call her in. He had a feeling she wasn't above a little theft for the right circumstances.

Cooper had called to request an immediate meeting at the Hummel Designs studio as soon as possible. When the receptionist had balked, he'd driven there and asked in person. What doors his fairly new name didn't open usually flew wide when he turned on the looks and charm. This instance had proven no exception and he'd secured a last minute appointment with Mr. Kurt Hummel himself for that evening. 

He'd been an hour early, waiting by the car and forcing himself not pace. Instead, Cooper just sat there, clutching the copy of the old bill of sale that Doris had found, becoming increasingly nervous. 

Now that he'd finally found someone who might know something about his brother, Cooper had realized that he had no idea what to say. He was fairly certain that grabbing the designer by the shoulders and shaking him while screaming "DID YOU BUY BLAINE?!" was probably not the most effective method. 

As he'd waited for his appointment, Cooper repeatedly reminded himself this could be nothing. For all Cooper knew, Kurt Hummel had bought $15,000 dollars worth of artwork from the hotel. Or, maybe he'd just really loved their towels. The receipt didn't specify what the man had paid the hotel for. But damn it, Hummel fit into the timeline perfectly. Maybe the man had bought his brother but subsequently sold him? It didn't matter, Cooper decided, anything at all was progress at this point. Taking several slow, deep breaths, Cooper calmed himself, straightened his outfit, and prepared to charm the socks off the Hummel Designs receptionist. Hell, maybe he could blue-eye Hummel while he was at it; didn't most fashion guys swing that way? 

************************

Cooper's evening session with the designer had gone about how he'd expected. On the bright side, Hummel was definitely of the persuasion to appreciate Cooper's better attributes. Which was actually a pretty decent advantage. Cooper wasn't above asking the man out for dinner or a drink if it might glean him some information. If Cooper had one true gift in the world, it was flirting. He knew Jessi would allow it. She had two brothers and a younger sister of her own and staunchly supported Cooper's efforts to find Blaine. 

Despite his initial instinct to hate Hummel on principle, Cooper had to admit that he seemed to be a genuinely nice person. He found a brief moment of peace thinking of this guy owning his brother instead of that damn hotel. Then he'd thought about Hummel actually making Blaine service him, and Cooper...well it was a good thing he was an actor and knew how to conceal his emotions. As much as he'd wanted to demand that Hummel tell him right then and there if he knew anything about Blaine, he knew he had to keep himself firmly in check. 

At the present time, Kurt Hummel was much more successful than Cooper and didn't need the actor's name or money to forward his career. Antagonizing Kurt this early on would serve no purpose. And the designer may just be petty enough to keep something purely because someone else wanted it. Cooper would need to come back to the office again for fittings, anyway, and he could subtly ask around then. 

Cooper was about to get in his car to leave when he realized that he'd left his hat in Hummel's office. He briefly considered leaving it, but it was his favorite; Jessica had bought it for him. With a heavy sigh, he shut his car door and turned back, hoping the doors weren't locked yet.

They weren't. Cooper heard the telltale sounds of industrial vacuums as the cleaning staff worked. He made his way back to Kurt Hummel's office without any one taking notice. The door was cracked open and he heard faint voices inside. Apparently Hummel worked late hours. Cooper raised his hand to knock, but froze when he made out the occasional words, muffled as they were from coming from the other side of the door. 

A breathless tenor: 'Please, Master..."

Then the much higher pitched..."Open wide...take my cock."

Cooper felt liked he'd been kicked in the chest by a mule. That first voice had sounded so much like Blaine's. And Hummel's high tone was unmistakable. Maybe it wasn't Blaine. There were a lot of slaves out there. And Cooper was well aware that he was hardly the picture of objectivity. Taking a risk, he gently pushed the door open a tiny bit, peering inside. He could see Hummel clearly. The designer was staring down, tightly fisting the dark curls of the slave kneeling between his legs. Cooper could only see the man on the ground from the back, but he looked like Blaine. So much. The slave was wearing short, tight sleeves and his upper arms bulged with subtle muscle as he clutched at the thighs before him. Blaine hadn't been that built. It was unlikely that the slave was him. Cooper held his breath. Please don't be him. This was the first time he'd ever wished for someone to NOT be his little brother.

And then Cooper heard it:

"That's it, Blaine...so good..."

Cooper rocked, grabbing at the door frame for support. The chill sensation of ice water ran down his spine, lighting his nerves. It took every fiber in his being for Cooper not to throw open the door, punch Kurt Hummel in the face as hard as he physically could, and drag his little brother away to safety. But he couldn't take care of his brother, or his family for that matter, from a jail cell. And that bastard Hummel wasn't doing anything remotely illegal. 

Seething, his abdomen churning like he'd swallowed snakes, Cooper abandoned his hat and raced back to his car while he still had some semblance of control left in him. He barely made it to the parking lot before losing it. He fell into the bushes, heaving up the coffee that had been the only thing his nerves had allowed him to take in for dinner. Once his stomach was well and truly emptied, Cooper rose to his feet, pacing back and fourth in a shadowed corner of the lot by his car.

His fucking parents! 'Blaine was fine', they'd promised. Happy and content serving some nice family in a big house. That was such utter bullshit. No, Blaine had spent the remains of his adolescent years being routinely raped at a hotel and now was forced to service some self-important, scrawny fashion designer. Cooper took several slow, deep breaths, locking his arms around his torso so he didn't punch the car. Once he had his anger under sufficient control that he wouldn't cause damage to his car, himself, or fucking Kurt Hummel, Cooper pulled out his phone and called his wife.

"Cooper? Hey, hun, when are you going to get back? The kids were hoping we could order pizza..."

"Jess," Cooper interrupted roughly.

"Honey, what's wrong? Talk to me. Are you crying?" She sounded worried, outraged, and dangerous. 

Cooper hadn't married her for her gentleness. Though she was a kind person, Jessi was tough as nails and protective as hell over those she loved. And she had the kick-boxing credentials to back it up. 

"Jessi, he's here," Cooper whispered, the words sounding choked. "I saw him."  
*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know. Cliffhanger. I don't like them, personally. But I have to go to work now. I'll get the next one up later tonight, scout's honor.


	6. Chapter 6

Talking to his wife generally made Cooper feel better, and this instance proved no exception. He sat in the car; head pressed against the steering wheel, explaining in excruciating detail what he'd just witnessed. Jessi firmly agreed with Cooper that waiting until he had a valid excuse to discuss Blaine with Hummel had been the right thing to do, even if it hurt. He closed his eyes, listening to her voice in his ear. It was warm and comforting, reassuring and helping him combat the soft voice in his mind that whispered that Cooper was abandoning his brother. Again. Once he felt calm enough to drive, Cooper pulled swiftly away without looking back.

Every hour that Cooper didn't have his brother safe with him was an ever-increasing weight upon his chest. He barely slept that night, and when he did, a 10-foot, monstrous caricature of Kurt Hummel tormented his little brother while Cooper stood by, helpless to intercede. He spent his days exhausted, trying to smile for interviews and not think about Blaine. 

Cooper was heartily relieved when he got a call from a KH Designs receptionist just a few days later, asking if he could come in some time for a few more measurements and color compatibility checks. He jumped at the opportunity. Canceling anything he had planned for the day, Cooper drove over to the main office. 

He spent the brief drive to the studio playing out various scenarios in his head. What should he do if he saw Blaine? He couldn't just drag him out of there; that would be theft. What if Blaine saw him and did something to get punished? God, Cooper couldn't handle being responsible for his brother being beaten. What if Blaine was there but didn't recognize him? Maybe he'd been abused so badly there was nothing left of him? Maybe his brother was there, but Hummel wasn't willing to sell? What if, what if, what if...

He spent a few long minutes in the parking lot, gathering his focus, establishing his most charming persona. He could do this. Taking a deep breath, Cooper entered the shiny glass building, and made his way to the front desk. A different young lady was working reception today then one he'd met on his initial visit. 

"Cooper Anderson?" The girl gasped in delight. "Oh my gosh, I've seen so many of your movies!" She must be new. KH Designs had much bigger names then his walking in the front door, and this type of staff was typically taught not to gush. But he didn't know if the woman might prove helpful so turned on the charm. He flirted pleasantly until she received a call notifying her to escort Cooper to a fitting room. 

As they walked, Cooper looked with interest at the elegantly framed posters lining the walls of the long hallway. Each photograph depicted beautiful people posing in KH outfits. He saw a pair of lovely blondes posed in a wide easy chair; the big man reclined with calculated ease, legs draped over one chair arm while the young lady perched delicately on the other. Her sparkling hazel eyes and Mona Lisa smile gave the impression she knew a secret, and had no intention of sharing. Or maybe Cooper was just projecting.

In the next photo, a tiny brunette with long brown curls stood at the end of a catwalk striking a dynamic pose, eyes gleaming in the bright lights as the crowd below was frozen in wild adoration. 

He saw the same girl a few pictures over in a gorgeous dress, posed to emphasize the simple but elegant ring on her finger. A large man in a jacket-less suit stood behind her, beaming proudly. He held a sign in one hand with simple lettering that read, "She said 'yes.' Cooper hadn't realized that Hummel did wedding clothes. He was so glad that he hadn't given that asshole any money to do his. 

Cooper continued to look as he walked, stopping at the next image. The poster featured a tan, curly haired man with bright golden eyes, casually reclining against a baby grand piano, smiling warmly. He leaned back, elbows and forearms resting on the instrument. His sleeves were rolled up to show off toned biceps. The eggplant colored shirt he wore was tight enough to suggest firm abs beneath the silky fabric. He wore it with the first several buttons open, exposing a leather collar at his open throat with the KH symbol perfectly centered. The shirt was tucked into a pair of immaculately tailored slacks, showing off the model's narrow waist. His legs were stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankles. Cooper had never seen his little brother looking so good. 

In the next poster, a gorgeous Latina smiled arrogantly, her eyes flashing with open amusement. She wore an old school, 50's pink and white poodle skirt, with a low cut, distressed, black and white striped retro top. Something clearly had her on the verge of laughter. She was deliberately posed, one hand propped against her hip, the other holding fast to the man kneeling at her feet. Blaine again. She had two fingers wrapped through the wide D-ring of his brother's collar, tugging him to a high kneel against her side, his fingers clutching at the frilly skirt. He was shirtless this time, as well as barefoot, clad only in a pair of tailored jeans. And yes, that had definitely been muscle under the shirt in the last image. Blaine could give Cooper a run for his money in terms of tone and definition. 

Cooper would have been infuriated by the humiliating pose if it hadn't been for the expression on his brother's face. Blaine appeared nearly as close to laughter as the girl above him. He grinned with wry amusement, eyes sparkling with resigned affection as he stared up at her. Both models wore identical collars with KH blatantly visible at the center.

There were more pictures further down the hall, but his escort turned away before Cooper got a chance to look at the rest. He decided that he'd ask for a tour later, if he wasn't escorted out in handcuffs, at any rate. Cooper was shown to a private room and a designer who wasn't Kurt Hummel greeted him politely and began handing him a selection of colored shirts to try out. Cooper was slipping on an indigo tee when a polite knock at the door signaled the lead designer's arrival. 

"Hello, Cooper, it's great to see you again. Thanks so much for coming in," Kurt greeted warmly. The woman who'd initially been working with Cooper quietly slipped out the door with a murmured, "thanks, Tracy" from Hummel. Kurt paused, taking a long look at Cooper. "That color is perfect for you. Do you like it?"

Cooper used every scrap of compartmentalization that he was capable of to spend next hour being Cooper Anderson-upcoming actor, and not Cooper Anderson- pissed-off, worried brother. And then, finally, they were done. Cooper hadn't found a way to bring up Blaine, or slaves at all for that matter; but he hadn't given in and beaten the crap out of Hummel either, so he figured that it evened out. And then Kurt was finished with him and Cooper found himself pulling his own shirt back over his head while Kurt packed up his notes.

"So, Kurt," Cooper asked, smiling warmly. "Do you mind if I take a quick tour of your studio? I couldn't help but see the posters along the wall on the way in and I was intrigued."

"The Hall O' Glamour Shots?" Kurt laughed. "Absolutely, go ahead. Those are some of the models I've worked with closely, past and present. I let them pick what images they wanted to have framed when I opened this office two years ago. Apparently, they conspired against me and instead of choosing selections from the perfect, professional shots I gave them, they decided to create their own poses. Not that I'd ever admit it to them, but I think it turned out really well. And it cheers me up on a bad day to see all my friends like that."

If Kurt wasn't the horrible person fucking his poor baby brother, Cooper would definitely like him. The actors head disappeared briefly as he pulled his shirt down when he heard a soft knock sound at the door, followed by someone entering. 

"Mr. Hummel, sorry to bother you. I just have a quick question..." Blaine's unmistakable tenor sounded at the door as he closed it softly behind him. Cooper quickly pulled the shirt the rest of the way down and turned his body to hide his face. He was frantically trying to figure out the right thing to do. That thought pattern lasted right up until he spotted his brother's arm. Blaine wore a fresh bandage from wrist to elbow that Cooper was certain hadn't been there on his last visit. What the hell had Hummel done to him?

Kurt reached out as he spoke with the slave, casually resting a hand on Blaine's arm. And that was the exact point when Cooper's control finally broke. 

Seeing red, Cooper lunged toward the designer. "Son of a bitch, get the hell away from him!" Cooper grabbed Hummel, swinging him away as hard as he could from Blaine before slamming a roundhouse punch into Kurt's stomach with as much force as he could put behind it. Kurt didn't fight back, looking absolutely stunned at the unexpected attack as he bent double, struggling for breath. 

When Cooper pulled back to hit him again, a hand caught his wrist, twisting his punching arm sharply behind his back. A partial leg swipe knocked Cooper off balance and he bent partially over to stay upright. He felt an arm go around his neck in a solid, but non-constricting throat hold. The angle Cooper's arm was bent at behind his back was sharp enough that any movement on his part risked dislocation.

"I apologize, Sir, but I'll have to ask you to stop immediately." Blaine's voice in his ear was firm and dead-serious, completely in control. Cooper sagged into the restraining hold, falling completely to the floor when Blaine abruptly released him. Blaine darted over to Kurt where he'd curled up on the ground clutching his stomach and attempting to breathe with the wind knocked out of him. 

Cooper's brother slid to his knees next to his owner, taking the man in his arms protectively. Blaine had positioned himself so that his body was between the designer and Cooper, keeping half an eye out for any motion from Cooper's side of the room that suggested there may be a round 2. 

"Kurt? Baby? Are you okay, love? Should I call an ambulance?" Blaine hiked up Kurt's shirt, gently palpating around the forming bruise. 

"Ow, Owie! I'm fine, Blaine. No ambulance, just please stop prodding me," Kurt protested in a breathless voice, ineffectively trying to bat Blaine's hands off him.

"Stop that," Blaine ordered when Kurt shakily tried to stand up. "Just sit for a minute and catch your breath." He kept one arm protectively over Kurt's shoulders, while stealing a quick glance towards the client's side of the room, making sure that the man was staying away. 

Kurt managed a weak laugh as his breath gradually returned. "I...I guess Kitten is good for something, after all," he wheezed. "Those were some serious moves you just did. Is it weird that I'm totally turned on by you right now?"

Blaine laughed, sounding relieved. "Well, it's not as if I train with her three times a week just to spend more time in her shiny company," her replied lightly. He leaned forward to place a quick peck on Kurt's lips. "And no, that's never a bad thing."

Kurt huffed. "If I recall, you are the one who invited that damn cat to come stay with us. I warned you about feeding strays."

Blaine shrugged. "I wanted a running buddy and Santana and I both like the in-house karate lessons." 

"When Santana is actually at home and not shacking up with Dani, you mean. I'm just counting the days until Satan decides she wants me to sell her over."

"What's your asking price?" Blaine asked in good humor. 

"Have you even met Santana? I'll happily pay Dani to take her," Kurt declared stoutly. 

Blaine grinned. "You know she's you're favorite model after Rachel." 

"Favorite female model, anyway." Kurt traced a finger suggestively along Blaine's arm and the slave nuzzled briefly into his neck in response. 

"Just what the hell is going on?" Cooper demanded, rising shakily to his feet. He had been staring the whole time, taking in the two men on the ground making goo-goo eyes at each other, looking every bit like a couple in love. He hadn't understood half of the discussion that had just occurred in front of him and wanted some answers. 

Twin glares landed on him at his outburst. Then Blaine's eyes widened in recognition and disbelief. "Cooper?" he whispered.


	7. Chapter 7

Blaine stared in absolute shock at the phantom in front of him. His first instinct was to run away. There was just no way that he could handle this. Not now. Maybe not ever. He squashed that impulse, burying the first hints of an impending panic attack. What the hell was his brother doing here? Blaine had let go of his past long ago. To all intents and purposes his life began the day he was dropped off at the Omaha slave training center. 

And now, when against all odd he'd finally found peace and impossibly enough, love, that long buried past appears out of nowhere to smack him in the face. Or more literally, punch his boyfriend in the stomach. Blaine slowly rose to his feet, helping Kurt up along with him. Kurt was looking between him and Cooper in confusion, clearly registering that something was amiss, if not what. Blaine clutched his boyfriend's arm in what was undoubtedly a painfully tight grip, but Kurt didn't object.

"What...what are you doing here, Cooper?" Blaine had to swallow several times, but managed to get the words out calmly enough. 

The years had been kind to Cooper. The faint signs of his age were only beginning to set in; his hairline barely hinting at receding, and faint creases outlined what Blaine recalled to be a perfectly smooth, youthful face. But he was definitely still on the '11' side of the 1-10 scale of beautiful. It was his eyes that showed real evidence of change. Their intent, relentless blue showed none of the goofy spark that had ever been Cooper's trademark expression. 

"I came here for you, Squirt. I've been looking for you for the last 7 years," Cooper replied softly. 

Blaine simply stared, trying to absorb what his brother had just told him. What was he supposed to do with that? Blaine took a deep breath; he just needed to maintain some distance, emotional and physical, so he could figure this out. 

A part of Blaine, the angry, bitter, jaded little piece, was tempted to just let go and wail on this physical manifestation of his destroyed life. He certainly had the skill for it. But Cooper's simple words ricocheted through his skull, burning away his resolve. And just like that, how, and why, and what the hell, suddenly seemed completely unimportant. The lost fifteen year old in Blaine just wanted his big brother. 

He didn't even consciously think about it. Two quick steps and Blaine found himself wrapped in his Cooper's welcoming arms. Blaine couldn't help himself. His brother had missed him; he'd been looking for him. Cooper hadn't abandoned him like their parents had.

Cooper gratefully hugged Blaine, clinging to the smaller man with all his strength; he couldn't believe that after all his searching, he had him. Finally, Finally. Thank God. He didn't care that he was crying; the rapid soaking of his shirt told him Blaine was as well. "I've got you, I've got you, Blaine. You're safe now."

Blaine came back to himself a moment later and pulled away, smiling softly when he felt Cooper's obvious reluctance to let go. "That you even tried looking for me means more than I think you'll ever understand." Blaine glanced behind him briefly to where his very confused boyfriend looked on. "But I am safe. I have been for a long time." Blaine stepped back and wrapped an arm around Kurt's waist.

"Cooper, this is my owner, boyfriend, and the love of my life, Kurt Hummel. Kurt, this is Cooper Anderson, my older brother." 

*******************  
The senior Anderson brother wandered down the 'Hall O' Glamour Shots' while he waited for Blaine to join him. Kurt was arranging to have their day cleared and then he, Blaine, and Cooper were all going to their house. Cooper noticed that it was Blaine who had done the inviting, without asking Kurt's permission first, and he'd called it home. 

To suggest that he was confused was the world's biggest understatement. Cooper simply couldn't wrap his head around the notion that the man he'd been demonizing since he'd first heard his name; the man that had said and done those awful things he'd witnessed, could be the same person his brother described. There had to be more too it; like some kind of twisted Stockholm's. 

Logically, he had to admit that was unlikely. There was simply no need for Kurt to bother. He completely owned Blaine; anything Kurt wanted he could compel the slave to give him with a command. Psychological games were completely unnecessary. And as much as he tried, Cooper couldn't dismiss what he'd just seen in the changing room. Cooper knew love when he saw it; he and Jessi looked at each other the same way. 

Maybe this Hummel really could be a good guy. Cooper's initial instinct had been to like the man. And he hadn't so much as raised a hand when Cooper had lost it and hit him. No, that had been Blaine; who clearly possessed the ability to physically protect himself and his owner from violence. Why would Kurt even give a slave access to those types of lessons? Cooper wasn't even sure if it was strictly legal to teach slaves to fight. Cooper reluctantly decided that until he knew more, he had to treat the situation like it was actually real. At least until he had some answers. 

Kurt had accepted Cooper's apology for hitting him with a casual wave. He'd taken worse blows being tossed into dumpsters; he shared dismissively. The sad look on Blaine's face told Cooper that Kurt meant the words literally. 

The couple readily addressed Cooper's most immediate concerns right then. Blaine explained that the arm injury that had been Cooper's proverbial last straw actually came from a kitten. Cooper suggested that maybe they should get the thing declawed if it caused damage like that; which for some reason made Kurt crack up.

That discussion was followed by the extremely awkward explanation where Cooper explained what he'd heard in Kurt's office. It was Blaine who assured Cooper that, despite how it may have appeared, he and Kurt had a healthy relationship firmly based on mutual respect. Cooper was dubious; he had serious concerns about his brother's ability to consent to that type of sex, or any sex really, but the way Blaine's cheeks warmed and how he'd hidden his face in Kurt's shoulder during the discussion relieved some of Cooper's concerns. 

Kurt had teased Blaine about finally being the one to blush about sex for the first time ever, and Blaine dared Kurt to even mention the word 'sex' around his own brother. Who apparently sometimes lived at their house, with or without his fiancè, as well as the Satan girl dating Kurt's receptionist. And a baby cat. Cooper was more then a little intrigued to see this place. 

Focusing back on the wall before him, Cooper looked more closely at the images of his brother, seeing the same relaxed, confident, and happy look present in every photo. The more he looked though, the more he sensed something was...off. It wasn't something a younger, less jaded Cooper would have noticed. And then he saw it; the shadow behind the sun in those lovely eyes; like they'd seen something horrible, something they could never un-see. Blaine had the eyes of a survivor. 

Cooper walked further down to a new picture. This one featured two men, both resplendent in tuxes. Kurt beamed at the camera with a sweet smile on his face, looking for all the world like a debonair cupid. He was also inexplicably wearing a tiara. Blaine was pressed up against his side, eyes closed, up on his toes so he could press a kiss to the designer's rosy cheek. Cooper could tell from the fabric's neckline that his brother wasn't wearing his collar in this shot. 

"That's from Prom," a soft voice said behind him. Cooper jumped and spun around, seeing his brother fight not to laugh. 

"Bit jumpy, aren't ya, Coop? Don't worry; I've got your back." Blaine grinned. He reached up to tap the image. "Kurt and I were talking one day. I was sold before I had the chance to attend a school dance, and he went to junior prom, but skipped senior. He'd been beaten up just before then and didn't want to show up with a raccoon eye."

Cooper nodded, noticing Blaine was perfectly comfortable with talking about being sold. Much more so than Cooper was with hearing the word. Talking about it just reinforced that this was real, it had really happened. The sweet boy in Cooper's memory who ran about the house in a cape and mask singing Phantom of the Opera really was gone. Cooper decided it was high time that he get to know this new Blaine; he had a feeling he'd like him.

"That's some serious muscle, you're sporting," he commented.

Blaine smiled easily. "I'm a professional model, Cooper. Keeping my body looking attractive is pretty much my job." 

"Lucky for Kurt."

"He's very appreciative of my efforts." 

Cooper decided now was not the time to ask how Blaine tolerated sex given his history. He'd talk to him about it later, in private. "Have you met any of Kurt's family?" Cooper asked instead.

"I have, actually. Burt, that's Kurt's father, and his stepmother Carol stay with us for most holidays. Burt said that since both his sons live around here, he might as well come this way. And a free stay at L.A. is never a bad thing. Carole just likes the excuse to go shopping with Kurt, I think." 

"Is everything...okay between you and them? I mean they probably didn't really expect..."

"Their son to fall in love with his slave?" Blaine asked in amusement. "I'm sure that they didn't. But they accepted me without reservation. They're really good people."

"Kurt's father is really okay with having a slave as his, too all intents and purposes, son-in-law?" Cooper pressed in clear disbelief.

"Burt loves me," Blaine replied honestly. "I met him during our first thanksgiving together. It was quite the scene. This giant guy just walks in the front door and out of the blue thwacks Kurt in the shoulder twice with his baseball cap. He said the first one was for buying a slave; the second was for getting into a serious relationship without letting Burt meet his boyfriend first. Then he told me that if I had any idea what a field goal was, we'd get along just fine." 

It had been more that that, of course. Blaine had been trying hard not to be afraid during Burt's stay. Anyone who'd raised Kurt to be the amazing person he is couldn't be bad. But he'd still been nervous. And while Blaine never admitted it out loud, Burt had been about the right age and physique to be any one of the closet-cases that had severely used him in the past. That comparison faded quickly as he got to know the man. Burt really was awesome, and it was startling how much the man figured out about what Blaine was going through. It was actually a little disquieting. 

Right before the elder Hummel left after that first holiday, Burt had pulled Blaine aside for a chat. He'd told Blaine that he was welcome to stay with him and Carole at any time. If Kurt was busy, or Blaine just wanted a change of scenery, they'd be happy fly up and get him, or have Finn play escort. Burt could always use the help at his car repair shop. 

It had taken Blaine some time and thought to really appreciate what that offer represented. If Kurt and Blaine fought, which did happen on occasion, Blaine literally had nowhere else he could go. He hadn't even realized that was a pressure on him until it was gone. 

He and Kurt had argued less after that. And when they did, the general tone was different. Blaine's behavior during arguments had been based more on fear than he realized. Blaine almost never initiated a fight, but once the couple started going at it he tended to come on strong and defensive: instinctively trying to avoid being backed into a corner. Just knowing he had somewhere he could retreat to really helped.

That had been one of the many ways Burt had been there for Blaine. More that once, the slave had called him for 'fatherly advice', or to complain about his son's latest audacity. Burt offered sound advice, and had some seriously valuable insight for handling his son. Blaine's favorite had been when Burt seriously told him to go to Kurt and tell him that he was 'being a a self-involved ass' and needed to take a step back and reflect on what was going on around him. Strangely enough, it had worked and Kurt had mellowed out considerably. 

"Anyway, Prom," Blaine refocused his thoughts to the present. "Kurt got it into his head that if we'd been in school at the same time we'd have gone to Prom together. So he hosted a big party and called it 'The Anti-Prom.' I'm actually friends with several of his old high school buddies, so I had a blast." Right up until a bullish, wanna-be security guard had picked him up and dumped him into the pool. And Puck and spent two months in charge of pool cleaning to pay for Blaine's ruined clothes. 

Blaine grinned at the memory. It had been one of the best nights of his life. Second, of course, to his first fashion show, when Blaine had landed himself the hottest, most desirable, sexiest guy at the event. Kurt had blushed when Blaine had told him exactly that as they danced during the Prom party. Blaine loved making Kurt blush.

"What's with the tiara?" Cooper asked, pointing his thumb at the odd accessory. 

"Hmmm? Oh. Like I said, Kurt went to Junior Prom. The kids at his high school decided it would be a fun idea to write his name in for prom queen. And he'd gone wearing a kilt. And to top it all off, the song chosen for the crowned couple to slow dance to was was 'Dancing Queen."

Cooper whistled. "So he was wearing a kilt, and a tiara, presumably about to dance with a boy, to Dancing Queen. He's sure had his own share of shit, hasn't he?"

Blaine nodded, eyes shining as he stared at the poster across from them. "He's the bravest person I know."

Cooper laughed. "Wow, you have it bad, Squirt. I only hope he loves you as much as you clearly love him" 

"He really does." Blaine smiled at his brother, knowing to his bones that it was true. 

Cooper watched Blaine with cautious relief; every smile and laugh taking years of stress off Cooper's life. He wasn't quite ready to believe that everything was as good as it seemed. But no matter what, Blaine was at least in a decent place. And now he had Cooper on his side. 

"Hey, guys. Ready to go?" Kurt chirped, joining them.

************************

Cooper stopped and stared at the gigantic, water-filled monstrosity taking up the majority of Kurt and Blaine's backyard. "Now, that's a pool." 

They were currently in the back while Kurt was inside the house, ordering food for everyone. It was obvious that he was trying to give the brothers some space, but no one commented on it.

Blaine blinked. "Uhmm, yes. Yes it is. Gold star for Cooper?" 

"It's a giant private pool, behind a giant privacy fence, and it has a water slide."

Blaine nodded, still confused. "It has one of those mini waterfall things on the other side, too. This is L.A., pools really aren't that unusual."

Cooper pulled out his phone and hit autodial. "Blaine, be a dear and ask that boyfriend of yours double the food order," he commented as the phone rang. 

The phone picked up and Cooper started talking before Blaine could respond. "Hey baby, wanna go to a pool party? Yeah, right now. Yes, everyone. I'm texting you the address. Bring any and all wine in the fridge will you? Thanks, love you." He set his phone down on one of the poolside tables before toeing off his shoe and dipping a foot in crystal blue water experimentally.

"Cooper, what are you doing?" Blaine asked warily. 

"Planning a pool party."

"Right now?" Blaine asked, annoyed. 

His brother nodded gleefully. Cooper hadn't changed all that much, Blaine decided. And he could still drive him crazy within minutes. A part of him was relieved that he hadn't completely cost his brother that spark of joy that made the actor so adorably charismatic. Blaine knew Kurt wouldn't mind the impromptu gathering; he knew better than anyone the importance of family. But Cooper was just being obnoxious.

His brother lowered his sunglasses and eyed Blaine over the tops. "Yes, indeed. No time like the present." He laughed at Blaine's scowl. "Oh come on, little brother. I'd like to think that you have at least a passing interest in meeting your twin niece and nephew, not to mention your gorgeous sister-in-law." Cooper grinned, "You're not the only one who scored himself a hottie, you know."

Niece and nephew? Blaine carefully set his phone aside before tackling his brother, hugging him tight as he deliberately sent them both careening into the pool fully clothed.

"Damn it, Blaine!" Cooper sputtered after he'd dragged himself to the surface and began treading water. "Do you have any idea how much this outfit cost?!"

Blaine laughed as he hauled his soaked body up and out of the water. "Oh, you don't need to worry about that, Coop. I know a guy."


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks to samanddeanfan for playing beta on that last chapter! Feel free to work your magic on this one as well ;-)

Cooper watched his little brother enthusiastically swim around with his kids, with a sort of bemused incredulity. He was still not entirely sure how he'd ended up at this point. Yesterday his life had been plagued by nightmares and he'd been considering paying someone to commit theft on his behalf. Two months ago he didn't even know if Blaine was alive. And now...here Blaine was, and it was everything that Cooper at his most optimistic had hoped it could be. Well, nearly anyway, he thought as he watched Kurt Hummel wander by. Because Cooper was almost positive that he wouldn't be taking Blaine back to live with him. Otherwise...yeah, it was perfect. 

Jessi and Blaine appeared to be getting along really well together. She had even offered him private kick boxing lessons, something she had point blank refused to anyone else. Blaine had seemed excited by the offer but said he needed to get the okay from his trainer first. Cooper had just about had a coronary at that statement, hastily choking back his words when he realized his brother had been referring a personal trainer who was instructing him in martial arts rather than the slave kind. 

The afternoon successfully wore Cooper's kids out. They'd been told stories all their lives about their lost uncle and had been ecstatic to finally meet him. Currently, they were napping together on a shaded hammock while the adults relaxed, grazing lightly on dessert and alcohol. 

Cooper was considering getting back in the pool when a tall body slid gracefully into the lounge seat next to him. Kurt. The expectant look on the designer's face made it clear he'd noticed that Cooper had been trying to get him alone to talk. 

"How's Blaine doing? Really?" Cooper asked without preamble. 

Kurt shrugged. "He's good. I mean, he has his moments, but we get through it."

"Care to clarify?" Cooper knew his tone had an edge to it, and he really didn't care. Cooper's attitude didn't seem to bother Kurt, who ignored the vague hostility and simply answered the question. 

"Well, he's prone to panic attacks. And he still has nightmares, sometimes. Those can be pretty bad. A few months ago we had a pretty intense argument and that night he dreamt that he heard me talking to someone about selling him. He had a hard time discerning the dream from reality for a few days after that. It's upsetting as hell, but I get it." 

Cooper actually believed that. With what he knew of Kurt's history, Cooper figured that the man had his own share of demons chasing him through his subconscious.

"How do you guys deal with it?" 

"The rough patches? Obviously it's difficult for both of us. Blaine tends to get really submissive after those kinds of things. And I get upset because I hate that he acts that way. Then he freaks out because he thinks I'm mad at him and he gets even more submissive. And then it loops for a while until we manage to reconnect. It's the slave conditioning. They burned those behaviors so deeply into his psyche that it tends to be his default method for handling stress or fear. So, umm...that's kinda why...when you caught us having sex in my office the other day." Kurt blushed faintly though he continued readily enough. "We aren't like that often, but we hadn't really seen a lot of each other lately, and that kind of thing sometimes makes him feel secure, well, 'owned' maybe is a better word. If that makes any sense." 

"And you're cool with treating someone you claim to love like that?" Cooper challenged.

Kurt met him glare for glare. "Our relationship is complicated. Blaine has a lot of shit to overcome, sometimes on a daily basis. If a little rough sex, if you can even call it that, makes him feel safe then I'm certainly not going to hold back. It's hot, we both like it, and feel close afterwards. So I'd appreciate it if you'd stop judging our entire relationship over a half-assed glimpse into our private life." Kurt's words were level and even; his icy expression said 'back the fuck off'. 

Cooper dropped eye contact first, a little intimidated by the intense gaze. It didn't help that Kurt was absolutely right. Instead, Cooper looked over to where his brother was sitting, dangling his legs over the poolside while he and Jessi casually chatted.

"That's why he's still wearing his collar, by the way," Kurt commented, reverting instantly back to his normal, easygoing self. Cooper blinked, he had wondered about that, but he didn't realize that he'd been staring. Or maybe Kurt was simply that perceptive. "It's kind of...a safety net, I guess?" Kurt continued. "It grounds him, keeps him in the present and reminds him that he belongs to someone who loves him and wants him to be safe."

"Is that why? I wondered if you required him to wear it all the time, or maybe..." Cooper hesitated.

"It's his. He can wear it or not as he likes. But Blaine isn't wearing it to punish you, Cooper. He just...forgets to take it off when he's feeling vulnerable. Blaine can be as petty as the next guy, and God knows I'm guilty of that myself, but that's not the reason. He doesn't blame you for what your parent's did."

"But I do. I mean, I didn't find him. I didn't even realize he was gone until it was too late. How can he not hate me for that?" Cooper whispered the words, his voice thick with guilt.

"Yes," Kurt agreed. "How dare you believe your parents when they tell you he's on a school field trip in Ireland with spotty cellular connections. The first thing that should have crossed your mind was that they were totally lying to you and had actually sold your brother into slavery to pay off their tax debt through some obsolete law. And, by the way, I'm pretty sure that's Blaine right there, not fifteen feet away. So that whole 'I didn't find him' issue has a few inherent flaws, don't you think?"

Cooper grinned faintly. "Okay, okay. You're right."

Kurt smiled back. "I know I am. Try not to worry too much. Blaine and I have had years of experience dealing with each others psychoses. I talk him down when he's panicking because his shirt suddenly feels like strange hands are clutching at him and he holds me at night when I wake up screaming because I think David Karofsky's coming to kill me. And that guy and I have been friends for years. It doesn't change where my brain goes at night."

Since Kurt was apparently still okay discussing the relationship, and Scary Kurt was still safely tucked away, Cooper decided to bring up something else that had been bothering him. "So, Blaine's good for you, as in, emotionally? I really get why he loves you. You pretty much saved his life. I"m just trying to figure what you're getting out of this...besides the obvious." 

Kurt grinned, not remotely insulted. "I'm committed to this relationship for the long run, and I assure you, it's not just because he's got a great ass." Kurt sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he thought about how best to explain. 

"Blaine plans surprises for me for no reason at all. He plays the piano when I feel grouchy or depressed, and sings me to sleep when I can't shut my brain down. He annoys me until I eat when I'm stressing out before a show, forgives me when I get self-absorbed and bitchy, and he puts up with all of my crazy. He goes all the way to Ohio with me every year so I can put flowers on my mother's grave on her birthday. I can tell you with utter certainty that Blaine is the best thing that has ever happened to me, and I have no intention of letting that go just because we face some some unusual challenges. I can't imagine being without him." 

Cooper nodded. "That's good. That's very good."

Kurt giggled. "But for the record, he really does have a fantastic ass." With that, he rose and sauntered over towards Jessi and Blaine, holding out a large tube and saying something. Cooper watched as Kurt walked away, swaying his hips a little more then usual. A second later Blaine took off after him, guiding Kurt to a lounge chair and climbed in behind him, reaching out an open palm towards the container. 

The two sat close, talking quietly while Blaine slathered sunscreen on his boyfriend's pale skin. They were a little too close and a little too handsy than was really decent in polite company. Blaine whispered something in Kurt's ear that had him laughing. Try as he might, Cooper couldn't deny that the men really were disgustingly cute together. 

Cooper grabbed another bottle of sunscreen off the table and headed over to sit by his wife. Blaine wasn't the only gentleman at this pool party.  
************************** 

 

Night had fallen on the impromptu gathering. After round three of pool hijinks, Blaine's newly discovered niece and nephew were finally down for the count. Blaine couldn't help but feel some relief at that. As much as he adored the charming twins, they truly were exhausting. He stared at the pool absently, watching as the underwater lighting danced along the rippling water, bathing it in in muted, multi-colored beams. 

The two couples had been talking easily, wine in hand for a while, seated around one of the poolside tables. Blaine's mind was abuzz, and it had nothing to do with alcohol. He made the right gestures and responded appropriately, but he found he was having trouble focusing. He couldn't quite figure out how to adjust to this new reality. 

Cooper was here, drinking wine with them, and saying all the things that Blaine had long since given up on dreaming about. But that hateful, jaded little voice in his head just would not shut up. It whispered that none of it was true. His brother hadn't really cared about what had happened to him. Cooper was becoming a name in Hollywood. It was natural that he'd seek out a designer like Kurt, and Cooper just happened to be there when Blaine had needed to ask Kurt a question for Wes. Coincidences happened. Blaine intellectually knew it that none of that was true, but he still couldn't calm his whirling thoughts.

Kurt rose, stretching his lean body, and deserting his reclining pool chair in favor of joining his boyfriend at the long bench Blaine was currently occupying. Kurt pressed gently on Blaine's shoulders. Following the silent prompting, Blaine slid to the ground, resettling himself on the ground between Kurt's legs. Blaine sighed happily as nimble fingers made strong from years of threadwork began firmly massaging the tension knots from his shoulders. Relaxing under the familiar touch, Blaine leaned his head back onto Kurt's knees, raising his eyes to meet his lover's warm gaze. 

Blaine saw everything he needed in Kurt's face. The man was so expressive. Kurt never held anything back from him; good, bad, or outright crazy. For Blaine, the professional mask Kurt presented to the world dissolved and everything was right there at the surface. It was one of the many reasons Blaine loved him.

Right now, Blaine read concern, reassurance, and love. Kurt had noticed that he wasn't as calm as he seemed. And in knowing that his boyfriend was so attuned to Blaine's emotional state, Blaine found the grounding his wandering mind needed. 

Blaine took Kurt's wine glass from where he'd set it down and took a casual sip, tuning back in to the conversation when he saw Jessi rising. 

"Well, as much fun as it's been, and it really has, I'm going to take the kids back to the house for the night," she told them, stretching her arms high.

"You all are all welcome to stay here," Kurt protested. His hands squeezed briefly on Blaine's shoulders, encouraging his opinion.

"You really should," Blaine agreed. He was a little surprised to find that he meant it. "God knows there's room for everyone, and it's late."

Jessi smiled warmly, and Blaine could tell she meant it. She wasn't one to hide...well anything, really. She reminded him of Kitten in that respect.

"Thank you for the invite, and believe me I'll take you up on it another time. But it's been a heck of a day and I should get these hooligans back so they wake up in familiar territory." She grinned over at her husband. "Who knows? Now that we've finally found you, Blaine, maybe you'll babysit so we can actually go on a honeymoon."

"You didn't have a honeymoon?" Blaine asked. "Why not?" If he ever was in a weird universe where he was allowed to marry Kurt, he'd ensure that they went somewhere far away and exotic, where they'd probably never set foot beyond their room. 

Seeing the look on Cooper's face, Jessi shrugged. "It wasn't right for us at the time," she replied evasively. With a warm hug for both Kurt and Blaine, and a healthy kiss for Cooper, she began gathering her sleepy kids, herding them towards the car. Kurt escorted them out, ensuring that she had all their contact information.

"So?" Blaine asked his brother curiously. "Why did you, of all people, skip a honeymoon with that beautiful, amazing woman?"

Cooper sighed. "They...I was finally told what happened to you on the morning of our wedding. Until that point, I'd accepted the various explanations of foreign trips and missed phone calls to explain your absence." 

"And you bought that?" Blaine asked skeptically. Cooper, or at least past him, could be Coopercentric to a fault, but he wasn't stupid.

"Not really. I can be fairly oblivious, but I'm not a complete idiot; I knew our parents were hiding something." Cooper stared down at his wine glass.

"I thought...bad things. Like you were in a coma, or even had died and they just didn't want to tell me so close to the wedding. And honestly, I couldn't handle anything like that. So I accepted the lies. Right up until our wedding day. I couldn't maintain the delusion any more when I heard you wouldn't be able to so much as phone me, and I demanded answers. And that's when they told me everything. Dad kept asking me where exactly I thought the money for the wedding was coming from, and the new apartment big enough for Jessi and two kids, like that should make everything better."

Cooper paused, taking a deep drink from his glass, unable to lift his gaze from the pale liquid. "That night, Jessi told me she'd cancelled our trip and gotten whatever money she could get refunded. She said we should use it to look for you."

Blaine sat still a moment, stunned. Finally, he responded with a caustic "I'm sure that went over well with them."

"I have no idea how it went," Cooper told him evenly. "I haven't had contact with either of our folks since that day." 

Guilt plagued Blaine's consciousness. Both for thinking the worst of his brother and for his role in messing up so much of Cooper's life. "Cooper, It isn't you fault," he told his brother earnestly. "None of it. You had no way of knowing..."

"That the reason they were being so inexplicably generous was because they didn't need to worry about dividing the inheritance anymore?" Cooper interrupted bitterly.

"Yes," Blaine replied firmly. "None of what happened to me was your fault. I believe that. And I wish you would, too." 

Cooper stared at him a minute, before pulling him in for a tight hug. Blaine hugged back, just as hard. "Thank you," Cooper whispered simply. 

"Speaking of what happened to you, I know, by the way." Cooper told him once they'd let go. "About the hotel."

Blaine nodded, glancing at the ground. "I figured. You had to find me somehow, and the paper trail would have led you there."

"How can you even...I mean. Obviously you and Kurt are sexually active, but how can you even handle that? I admit I already talked with him about it. It doesn't seem like he pressures you."

"He doesn't and never has," Blaine rebuffed forcefully. "If anything, it's the opposite. Getting together was my idea and I worked hard to make it happen. It wasn't easy talking Kurt into trying. As to how we handle sex..." Blaine sighed. "With patience, love, honesty, and a lot of false starts. And communication, though we both suck at that." 

Cooper laughed. "Well, that's another thing we have in common, besides our stunning good looks. It drives Jessi batty trying to get me to talk about relationship stuff." Blaine reached his glass out, tapping it gently against Cooper's as they toasted 'awkward relationship talks'. 

The soft sound of footsteps signaled Kurt's return. "Well, I'm going to bed. Cooper, by all means, stay the night. Finn will be coming by in the morning for breakfast if you want to meet the other Hummel currently in residence. Kitten is still out of town, so you dodged that bullet."

Cooper thought a moment, and decided he'd like to stay. He glanced over at Blaine who looked hopefully at him. Yep, definitely staying. "Sure, thanks."

Blaine reached a hand out to Kurt for an assist to his feet. "You can stay in a guest room," he offered to Cooper, "but I'll need to change the sheets. Or you can just stay in my room; I usually make sure they stay fresh." 

"Your room sounds fine." Cooper wanted more alone time with his brother, adding why Blaine would need his own room to his list of questions. "Show me the way?"

The tour was brief, but Cooper couldn't help but be amazed by large home. Every room he saw was both immaculately decorated, but filled with subtle touches that made it feel like 'home' rather than a professionally staged residence. Finally, Blaine escorted him to a large room decorated in a myriad of colors that, unlike the rest of the house, almost-but-not-quite matched one another. Cooper grinned at the giant, tastefully framed concert poster of Katy Perry taking up a large section of wall space. Definitely not Kurt's work. Not only was the poster ridiculously cheesy, the bright bubblegum colors completely clashed with pretty much every other aspect of the room. The bed was carefully made, and had that of look of guest beds everywhere that suggested it hadn't been slept in for a while. No fewer then five guitars rested neatly on small black stands against the wall across from the bed. 

"Decorate yourself?" Cooper asked, raising an eyebrow as he turned back to face his brother.

Blaine smiled self-consciously. "Sue me, I didn't inherit the gay gene for perfect color-coordination." 

Cooper laughed. "Or of decent taste for that matter," Cooper stated, gesturing and the giant poster. "Kidding, Squirt. It's all very you. " Or the 'you' that Blaine had been, once upon a time. It eased something in Cooper's heart that some part of the brother he remembered lived on. "Do you play much?" he asked, gesturing at the guitars and firmly closing the door on darker thoughts. The past could not be changed, it was time to focus on the future. 

Blaine smiled brightly, glancing over at the instruments. He plopped onto the mattress, pulling Cooper down with him and launched into a running commentary about each guitar, what exactly made it different from the others, and a story about how he'd come about owning it. Cooper sat back, listening to his brother enthusiastically ramble on, truly happy for the first time in seven years.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here there be angst.

Kurt glanced across the kitchen counter as he cleaned the dishes. Blaine was curled up on the couch, locked in some kind of digital death match with Finn. They casually insulted one another as they played, something Kurt had been assured was 'smack talk' and absolutely harmless. But Finn was pushing it. 

Kurt was almost certain that his brother didn't realize his taunts were bordering on mean, but he had no plans on interfering. If Finn took it too far, Blaine would just tackle him to the floor, locking the bigger man in some form of arthritis inducing limb pretzel until Finn saw the error of his ways and apologized. 

He finished with the dinner dishes and watched the two bicker, weighing his options. Kurt really wanted some time alone to talk with Blaine about Cooper, but after multiple days of unsuccessfully trying to coerce any kind of conversation, Kurt had reluctantly concluded that Blaine was intentionally avoiding him.  


Blaine stayed up later then Kurt could afford to, watching TV or reading, sometimes in his own room where by mutual agreement, Kurt wasn't allowed to go. And Blaine had been conveniently out running by the time Kurt woke up for the last few mornings.

Kurt understood that Blaine was going through a tough time trying to figure out how to adjust to the addition of Cooper to his life and all that his presence represented. But he couldn't help but feel hurt that the man he loved chose to deal with it by freezing him out.

"I think I'll head to bed early, maybe sketch a little. Will you be in soon, Blaine? You're booked with Tanya at 8 tomorrow morning to go over those photos you took last week."

"Oh, I completely forgot," Blaine replied, eyes glued to the screen as he tapped at his controller. "I've already committed to working with Wes tomorrow. Do you think she'd be okay with rescheduling?"

Kurt knew that Tanya would be fine with it. Most of his designers doted on Blaine, especially the women. But he also knew what Blaine wasn’t saying. Tanya would need Kurt's input during the decision making process. Wes' office was on the other end of the building, and he was frequently out of office, anyway. Spending the day with Wes ensured that Blaine would be getting back long after Kurt would have left work for the night. Blaine was deliberately doing it to avoid him. Kurt bit back an angry response. It would be okay. He just needed to give Blaine some time. 

"I'm sure it's fine,” Kurt replied, hiding his hurt. “Would you mind emailing her about the change of plans, sweetie?" 

"Of course. Just as soon as I get this sad excuse for a soldier off that roof..." The sound of shots fired and cursing from Finn suggested that Blaine had hit his target.

Kurt turned and made his way back to their room. He looked at the covers, then at the clock. 9 pm. Right now he should be warm and content in Blaine's arms while they talked about their day, cuddling and teasing. But that was pre-Cooper. 

With another rueful glance at the bed, Kurt decided that going to sleep alone held no appeal for him. Maybe he should just get some work done instead. With a sigh, Kurt turned away from the bed and made his way to the small staircase that led up to his private studio. He tugged the protective cover off of a mannequin and pulled out his pin cushion.

Kurt spared a glance at the empty window seat where Blaine typically hung out while Kurt worked. Deliberately turning his back to the vacancy, Kurt stared at the half finished dress on the mannequin, picturing how the soft yellow piece would glow against Santana's beautiful skin. He soon lost himself to colors and shapes and the reassuring feel of fabric against his fingertips.  
************

Blaine turned off the TV shortly after one am. He glanced down the hallway to his and Kurt's room. He knew he was hiding from Kurt, but he really didn't want to talk about Cooper just yet. Blaine's brother had reluctantly left the house after spending that first night. He had to go back to his own home and the numerous appointments he'd blown off in his quest to find Blaine. He and Blaine had talked about him breaking his rental lease to move closer to Blaine later, once the initial promo work for Cooper's new movie was done.

Blaine was a little relieved for the delay, to be truthful. It had nothing to do with not wanting his brother around. Cooper's presence was the best thing to happen to him since Kurt had purchased him from the hotel. But Cooper triggered memories and emotions that Blaine really didn’t want to handle. The deep-rooted grief and abandonment that Blaine thought he'd long since left behind tore at him. He didn't want to deal with it, so he just didn't think about it. 

All which meant Blaine needed to stay away from Kurt for the moment. There was no way that his lover would let him get away with bottling away everything he was feeling. On some level, Blaine knew Kurt would be right, too. So Blaine made sure not to be alone with Kurt, just for a little while, just until he could settle things in his head a bit.

Setting his phone alarm, Blaine tugged the throw rug off the back of the couch and curled into a ball, closing his eyes. The couch was a perfectly comfortable place to spend the night and he worried that if Kurt found him sleeping in his own room it mind send Kurt the wrong message. But in avoiding their bedroom, Blaine wasn't in a position to notice when Kurt didn't come down from his studio that night. 

Blaine rose early, changing in his own room so he wouldn't disturb Kurt by sneaking in, and set off for a run with the budding dawn. He deliberately took the longest trail, knowing that there was no way he'd be back before Kurt had to be at work.

Kurt's phone faithfully woke him for work from his place on the floor where he'd finally passed out a few hours ago, hunched over a sketch book. He slowly made his way downstairs, staring at the still made bed in his and Blaine's room for a long moment before heading to the bathroom to shower.  
***

"Good morning, Kurt," Dani chirped brightly at her boss as he made his way into the building. She frowned as soon as she got a good look at her boss. Kurt didn't look his best. His eyes were shadowed and red, though his hair and clothes were as perfect as always. 

"You're a little overbooked today, sorry. But it could be worse. I have three calls to make yet to clients who were hoping to get in today." She braced herself for inevitable scowl and complaints about stealing his vital personal time.

"Why don't you go ahead and book them?" Kurt replied, shrugging. "No need for us to get backed up." He was in no hurry to get back to his house and face another night in an empty bed. 

"Kurt?" Dani asked, concerned. "Is everything alright?"

"I'm fine. I just was up in the studio a little late last night. Would you mind bringing me an extra large nonfat latte?"

"Of course," Dani assured him. "How about a breakfast sandwich?"

"No, thank you. I'm not really hungry this early in the morning. Is my itinerary up on the laptop?" At his assistant's nod, Kurt stretched his arms forward and cracked his knuckles, firmly settling his mind into the familiar work patterns.  
"Thank you. Well, let's get this day moving. Fashion waits for no man." He managed to dredge up a smile for Dani as he walked into his office. 

Kurt sat at his desk, scrolling through his list of clients for the day. Almost all were repeats, which made things easier. He watched several new appointments pop into calendar up as Dani dutifully booked the new meetings. Kurt shut down all thoughts of home, dedicating his mind to work. If Kurt was a true master at anything, it was compartmentalization. 

Kurt dragged himself back to the house late that night, well after 8 pm. A note on the counter informed him that Finn had taken Blaine to an evening movie and they'd get pizza while they were out. He contemplated the note for a minute, then made his way directly up to the studio. Mercedes had been bugging him for a new gown and he had just the pattern in mind. 

It was nearly midnight when Kurt finally dragged his exhausted body back downstairs to his room. Still no sign of Blaine. Sighing, Kurt curled up in their bed and fell into a restless sleep.  
He woke too soon to his bedside alarm. The first thin Kurt noticed was that the pillows across from him were ruffled. So Blaine had come in at some point that night. And he'd left again without so much as a word. 

Kurt numbly made his way to the shower, mind reeling. His boyfriend had never blown him off like this before. If anything, Blaine got close and clingy when he was upset. Maybe seeing Cooper reminded Blaine of what he should have been? Was that why Blaine was staying away? When he looked at Kurt did he still see the friend and lover, or just the master who owned his body? 

What if he was avoiding him so that Kurt wouldn't push for sex? And if that was the case, had he been sleeping with Kurt all these years just to...appease him? No, Kurt couldn't believe that. For one thing, it wouldn't be necessary. Blaine's safety and comfort were guaranteed without the requirement of a relationship. Getting together had been Blaine's idea in the first place. But, he reminded himself, things could always change. 

Maybe Blaine wanted to go away with Cooper. Did he think Kurt wouldn't allow it? Kurt truly hoped that Blaine understood that if he wanted to leave, that he would never prevent it. He'd sign Blaine's paperwork over to Cooper the second Blaine told him that was what he wanted. 

The thought that Blaine might not understand that truth, that he thought Kurt might exercise his rights as his owner made bile rise in Kurt's throat. He didn't vomit, though, which was good. Vomiting without food in the stomach was painful, he knew from past experiences.

Kurt worked late at the office again, his mind shifting to the partially finished mannequins in his studio the minute Kurt started on the short path back to the house. Worrying about Blaine wasn't productive. He'd wait until Blaine finally decided to confront him and tell Kurt he'd found a better place to live.  
\--------------------

"Blaine, can I talk with you?" Tracking the slave down had been harder than Dani had originally thought it would be. But he'd been popping in and out of the office for days now, and didn't answer his phone when she called. 

"I’m sorry, but I really can't right at the moment. I'd hate to keep these ladies waiting," Blaine replied distantly. He gestured at the three models sitting in the studio with the hand not holding his bulky camera. They were chatting animatedly with each other, not seeming the least bit concerned that he hadn't started yet.

"Okay, just, please call me as soon as you're done?" Dani asked him. 

"Of course," Blaine agreed, turning his gaze down to the settings he was adjusting.

Dani sighed and wandered dejectedly back to her post at the front desk. That went about as well as she'd expected. It had been over two weeks since that hottie brother of Blaine's had made his dramatic appearance, and something clearly wasn’t right. 

No matter what Kurt said, her boss was not okay. He took care to hide the dark circles under his eyes with make-up, but Dani had seen him pull that stunt before and recognized the signs. His clothes were immaculate; too perfect, even by Kurt's exacting standards. And he brought sketchbooks filled with new designs in every morning. And the most telling concern, Kurt hadn't complained once whenever she scheduled extra meetings. 

Dani was well aware that Kurt handled stress by losing himself in his designs and endless work. She'd seen him do it before, usually on the anniversary of his mother's death or some other difficult milestone. But that had all been pre-Blaine. Blaine always kept Kurt on track, taking care of the famous designer when he got in these moods. 

Kurt was away at a meeting now, so she carried some faxes in to set on his desk. She turned to toss an extra copy in the trash and paused, staring down. The lunch she'd brought in to Kurt earlier had been tossed into the bin, completely untouched. And this wasn't the first time she'd seen that recently. Dani tried to remember the last time she'd seen Kurt eat more than some fruit or granola bar, and realized she was drawing a blank. Fuck. Not again. Dani pulled out her cellphone, tapping the first button on her autodial. This called for the big guns.  
***************************

"Thanks for coming out with me," Santana grinned over at the shorter man pacing evenly beside her. "I've been meaning to get something nice for my girl and I hate shopping alone." 

"It's no problem," Blaine replied, smiling at his old friend. "It was fun hanging out. With all the time you spend at Dani's these days, the only time I see you is for a shoot or tailoring." 

The two slaves made their way down the darkened streets. They'd visited a number of stores, until Santana had found the exact necklace she wanted. They’d roundly ignored the occasional stares from other customers while they shopped. Slaves tended to be treated fairly liberally in the West coast, and it wasn't worth the time for most clerks to bother them. Especially when the the slaves were wearing high end clothes and carried slave-approved credit cards with unheard of limits. 

"Yeah. I've been meaning to talk to you for a while, anyway,” Santana told him. “I know I belong to Dani in all but name, but I think maybe I want to change that last part." She glanced at the ground. "You know him better than I do. Do you think Kurt would sell me if I asked?"

"Oh, not a chance in hell," Blaine replied easily. "But he'll give you to whomever you want. You really trust Dani that much?"

"I kinda do," Santana agreed, smiling softly. "I think I might be in love with her. And she's ridiculous in the sack. I mean seriously, Circ de Solei type of shit. And don't get me started on the flexibility, and those legs, and..."

"I get it, I get it," Blain interrupted, laughing. 

"I should probably get on that soon, then, before Master Kurt ends up in the hospital," Santana added, glancing down at her phone absently when it beeped. 

"Excuse me? Kurt's fine. Why, did something happen?" Blaine stopped midstep, heart jumping. Surely someone would've called him if Kurt was hurt?

"No. At least, nothing that I know of,” Santana replied. “But shouldn't you know that better then me? I mean, you’re the one living with him. Don't you two share a bed and crap?" 

"Yes we do, and last I saw him, Kurt was fine.”

"When exactly was that?" Santana asked mildly, not bothering to look up from her text. "'Cause I gotta tell you, I've been hearing otherwise."

"It was just..." Blaine paused. When was the last time he’d looked at Kurt? He'd seen his sleeping form in their bed, of course. Hell, he'd kissed Kurt on the cheek just that morning before rolling out of bed to exercise. But when was the last time he'd really looked at his boyfriend? Blaine knew he’d been avoiding Kurt for a few days, but that was just until he could get think everything through. Which, of course, he'd avoided at all costs. Cooper and he texted regularly, but beyond that, Blaine refused to evaluate his emotional issues. 

It had been a while, Blaine realized as he counted back from the current date. Like weeks. He turned big eyes to Santana. She was looking down her nose at him with her best bitch face. Clearly, she'd known something was up, and she didn't approve. 

"Tell me?" Blaine asked anxiously. This hadn't been just a casual visit, then. Blaine had fucked up and Santana was calling him out on it. Now he just needed to figure out how badly.

"Dani always has a lot to say about Kurt. She's been with him in some capacity or another since he first started his business, you know. She said that he turns into a total workaholic, sometimes. It's apparently how he deals with stress." 

Blaine was aware of that. It was something he always watched for whenever they’d get close to the opening of a new line or before a major show. But there was nothing going on right now. Kurt should be fine. 

"Anyway, I was in earlier this week to model a dress for him and in my unprofessional opinion, he looked like shit," she told Blaine, glaring at her friend. 

“You do remember that Kurt's the reason you aren't still going ass up for whatever midlife crisis case that'll have you, right?" Santana continued blithely. “Oh, wait. Never mind, that’s not true. You’d be taking a permanent dirt nap since one of our disgusting clients went and gave you an STD,” Blaine flinched, wrapping his arms around his torso. 

Santana scowled at his continued silence. "What's the point of fucking your owner if you aren't going to keep an eye on him? Master Kurt is the reason we're still alive, fat and pampered, and I’m in no hurry to get sold to whatever jackwater who can afford to outbid Dani if something happens to him." Santana waited for Blaine to get around to finally responding.

"I'm not," he admitted finally, his voice nearly a whisper.

"Not what?"

"Fucking our owner. Kurt and I haven't had sex in weeks. Not since the night Cooper stayed over." 

"And that gaping issue hasn't come up casually over pancakes?" Santana asked cattily.

"We haven't eaten together either in...oh, hell." Because Blaine knew that working himself to exhaustion wasn't the only thing Kurt Hummel did when he was overly stressed.

"I have to go, Santana. Thank you, I'll call." Rising up on tiptoe, he gave his friend a quick peck on the cheek before taking off for home. He wasn't worried about the slave girl walking the rest of the way home alone. Both she and Blaine had been trained by the best to be dangerous.

"I expect you to take better care of him in the future, you furry-footed idiot!" Santana hollered at his retreating form. 

Blaine had started off walking, but as his mind played back just how long he'd left his boyfriend alone, how many nights he'd stayed away, his pace steadily picked up. He had to see Kurt. 

Blaine was all out running by the time he made it home. The house was mostly dark. Finn had gone back to his place a week and a half ago when Rachel had returned from her latest tour and Kitten was going to be gone for another month or two yet. The house was just theirs at the moment. It felt empty.

He glanced at the pool as he went in through the back gate but the calm water did nothing to soothe his churning emotions. The two slaves had been out late, it was nearly 11. Kurt should be in bed by now. Blaine made a beeline for their room, halting when he saw the bed neatly made and very empty. He turned around and trotted up the stairs to the second floor. 

The lights were on in Kurt's studio and soft music played quietly in the background. An empty coffee cup and large carafe rested on the doorway table. Blaine paused at the door, taking in just how many of the mannequins were in use, reflecting the number of partially finished projects. A stack of open sketchbooks with fresh coal covered one table. Kurt was there, standing on his toes as he pinned fabric onto the shoulder of the dress form he was working with. 

Now that he actually had eyes on his boyfriend, Blaine was able to calm down a little. He leaned against the doorframe, taking a few minutes to simply watch Kurt work. Kurt softly hummed along with the music, the sound soothing and familiar. The sleeveless tank he wore revealed wide shoulders streaked with subtle muscle. His sleep pants hugged the curves of his narrow waist, stretching around his pert ass. Poised on his toes like that, he looked long and lean and perfect. Kurt was breathtaking. 

"That's gorgeous," Blaine said softly. "Whose it for?"

Kurt jumped, spinning around. "Oh! Blaine, you scared me."

"I'm sorry."

Kurt shrugged. "It's okay, I wasn't really paying attention. And the dress is for Mercedes. Her latest CD is going to be released next month and she needs to be stunning for the party."

Now that he was really looking, Blaine realized that Santana had been right. Kurt didn't look good. His usually warm, lustrous skin was an unhealthy pale color and his hand trembled slightly where it rested on the mannequin's armless shoulder. He had dark circles under his eyes. His eyes. They were still beautiful, of course. But they didn't regard Blaine with any of the sparkle or pleasure he was accustomed to seeing when Kurt laid eyes on him. To Blaine, he looked defeated.

"Can we talk, Kurt?" Blaine asked softly.

Kurt swallowed nervously and nodded. "Of course, of course. Hold on, I have it right here." He turned and walked over to Blaine's window seat, moving several rolls of fabric aside to the side to reveal a manila folder. Kurt flipped it open as he walked back, maintaining a careful distance from Blaine as he handed it over.

Blaine's eyes widened as he recognized his slave paperwork. He took the folder from Kurt's hand, looking to down to see a certified bill of sale at the top, dated several days ago. He stared in absolute shock at the document, frozen in disbelief. 

"You sold me?" 

In all their time together, Blaine had never imagined this possibility. He'd never considered, even during the worst of their fights, that this was even an option for Kurt. Self-preservation kicked in and Blaine's eyes moved immediately to the line with his new master's name. Oh. 

"Yes. Well, I mean, no, not exactly," Kurt was saying, speaking fast and anxious. "It's just a formality. No money is changing hands or anything like that. And the money in the bank account that we created for you is yours, of course. We can get that changed over later." 

Blaine looked at him with wide, liquid brown eyes. "Why did you sell me to Cooper, Kurt?" Was his master, no, not his master anymore. Just Kurt. Was Kurt that angry with him?

"So...so you can live with him? Like you want. Like you clearly need." Kurt stared hard at the floor, choking a little on the words. 

Kurt sighed. "But you didn't have to do it like this, Blaine. You have to know, God, I hope you know, that I'd never stand in your way or prevent you from going anywhere you thought was best for you. You could have just told me instead of freezing me out of your life." He finally looked up, blue-grey eyes glittering with unchecked tears. "Is it wrong for me to think that you owe me that much?"

Blaine dropped the folder to the floor and moved to Kurt in two quick strides, enveloping the man in his arms and holding tight. Kurt shivered slightly in the embrace but he didn't pull away.

"I love you so much, sweetie," Kurt whispered in Blaine's ear. "I just want you to be happy. More than anything. And if your brother and his family give you that, I'm all for it. I know you didn't have an over-abundance of options when you chose to be with me. I get that." 

In that instant, Blaine was more disgusted with himself than he’d ever been in his life. The way he'd screamed at his branding, that moment during slave conditioning when he realized he'd truly broken, years of bending over for any john that wanted a screw, none of that compared to what he'd done to his beautiful lover. 

He realized that Kurt really believed that Blaine had just been making do with him for all these years, settling for what he could get. Was this a new thought? Or had Kurt always thought that if Blaine had a choice he'd have looked elsewhere? 

With a sinking sensation, Blaine understood that all of this made perfect sense from Kurt's perspective. After all, the moment a viable alternative appeared in Blaine's life he'd instantly disappeared from Kurt's side. He'd all but bowed out of his boyfriend's life the minute Cooper had entered his. 

"Take it back," he whispered hoarsely, clutching at Kurt desperately. 

"What, the money? Blaine, it's yours. You've earned it with all your modeling and photography work over the years. You know that." 

"No, not...not the money. Fuck the money." Blaine leaned far enough away so that he could look up into Kurt's confused face. "Take ME back, Kurt! I love you! There's nowhere else on this world I'd rather be than with you. Please don't send me away. I don't want to go with him. Please!"

Growing frantic, Blaine spun away from Kurt and dropped to his knees in front of the folder. He yanked the bill of sale off the tiny hooks and tore it in half. Once he'd started, he couldn't stop until it was so much confetti on the floor in front of him. He was crying, sobbing really, and he didn't care. If he couldn't be with Kurt, he didn't want to be. 

Strong arms wrapped around Blaine from behind, cradling him back against a firm chest. "Easy, my love, just breath. I'm not making you go anywhere. You don't have to leave if you don't want to." 

"You promise?" Blaine asked around a sob. "Even though I was so awful, and...and left you like that, for weeks. Please, Kurt. Punish me if you want, I deserve it. Just don't stop loving me." 

"Hey, stop that. Nothing in this world could make me stop loving you," Kurt swore. Blaine rotated himself in Kurt's arms so he was facing him. It sounded so much like the truth. 

Blaine curled into Kurt's chest, cuddling close. "You're still my master, right? Please say yes." 

"Your master, your friend, and lover. Whatever you need, honey."

Blaine sighed in Kurt's arms, relaxing at last. They were okay. Talking was going to have to happen, and it was going to suck majorly, but they were still Kurt and Blaine. They still had each other, and anything else could be fixed. And speaking of fixing...

Blaine dragged himself to his feet, scrubbing at his eyes with his shirtsleeve before tugging Kurt up with him. "Come on." Blaine pulled his boyfriend to his feet and turned off the lights as they left the studio.

Kurt was confused, but allowed Blaine to lead him, letting out a sound of surprise at the foot of the stairs when Blaine guided them the opposite direction of their room. "Where are we going?"

"To the kitchen. I'm making you dinner. And you're going to eat every bite." 

"What? No. I mean thank you, but it's almost midnight and I'm really not..."

"You've clearly lost weight, your complexion is sallow, and your hands are shaky. Tell me truthfully that you've been eating decently the last few weeks," Blaine dared him, still tugging. 

"I eat!" Kurt retorted defensively. "When there's time, anyway. I've just been really busy, lately." Still arguing, Kurt sat down on the bar stool when Blaine pressed against his shoulders. 

"Dani said she's seen your untouched lunch in the waste bin multiple time this week alone. And I'm pretty sure I've been the only one raiding the fridge here since Finn left." 

Seeing the stubborn gleam in Kurt's eyes, Blaine realized he was gearing up to argue just for the sake of arguing. Stubborn ass. But he was Blaine's stubborn ass.

Smiling to himself at the thought, Blaine pulled the phone out of his pocket and called Dani, telling her that Kurt was taking a much needed and deserved day off tomorrow. She didn't sound particularly surprised by the news. She did sound giggly, and Santana's voice in the background was saying something about guns. Blaine hung up, deciding he didn't want to know.

With that out of the way, Blaine turned back to his lover. Kurt's arms were crossed defiantly across his chest and he wore a mulish expression. Blaine decided a change of tactics was in order. He could definitely handle that.

Blaine gripped the counter and locked his arms, leaning forward slightly. The position made the chiseled muscle of his upper arms tighten around the cuffs of his short-sleeved shirt, displaying his toned biceps while simultaneously stretching the material taut against his chest. Years of modeling had taught Blaine how to pose his body to best advantage. Blaine smiled, giving Kurt the sultry look that he knew made his owner melt every time. Kurt's eyes widened and he swallowed audibly. 

"Just to be clear," Blaine purred. "You're telling me that you don't want me to curl up naked beside you, feeding you bites in between kisses?" Blaine's grin turned wicked. "Are you sure about that? We both know how much you love sliding fruit slices from my fingers with that talented tongue of yours." 

Blaine leaned slowly forward over the bar, taking Kurt's mouth in a gentle kiss, nipping a bit at the lower lip as he pulled away. The moan Kurt didn't try to hide at Blaine's actions made him burn. Oh yes, Blaine thought with satisfaction and healthy dose of relief, they were going to be just fine. 

"I'll even play human buffet for you for dessert,” Blaine cajoled. “Or don't you want to lick chocolate syrup off my abs? Just imagine it, Baby. Thick, dark liquid dripping down my nipples, just begging for you to put your mouth..." 

Blaine's words were cut of when Kurt surged forward over the counter, sliding his fingers into Blaine's curls and yanking his head forward for a deep, claiming kiss. 

"Okay, okay. You win, whatever you want,” Kurt panted. “As long as it involves chocolate syrup." 

Blaine laughed, breaking away to finish the turkey and cheese sandwich he had started. He cut the sandwich into tiny, bite size pieces and began gathering the other promised food items, wriggling his eyebrows comically when he added the bottle of Ghirardelli syrup. 

Blaine looked up into Kurt's smiling eyes, his body weak from the emotional upheaval and slow dissipation of adrenaline. Kurt still loved him, still wanted and desired him. The world was as it should be. 

"C'mon lover," Blaine encouraged, smiling warmly as he gathered the tray and headed for their room. "Lets get some food in you. If you're very good and finish all of it, maybe I'll eat something else afterward."


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this chapter is 99% smut. If the mature rating isn't your thing, feel free to skip it. I've written it so that the chapter can be bypassed without any interruption in plot flow. I've never written an entire chapter of sex before so this should be interesting.
> 
> Thank you to my rockstar beta (I have a beta! This may be the most amazing thing in my life right now :-) Samandeanfan for cleaning up my mess.

The blaring of his alarm rocked Kurt from a sound sleep. Reflexively, he blindly smacked the snooze button, temporarily silencing the demon machine. He dove back into his pillow, debating the pros and cons of staying in bed. Eventually, his brain won the battle against his body's demands to curl back into bed for a few more toasty warm minutes. With a deep sigh, Kurt dragged himself into sitting position. A quick glance at the empty space next to him revealed that he was alone in bed, as usual. 

God, I'm losing it, Kurt thought, rubbing blearily at his eyes. Both he and his subconscious needed to get a grip. He didn't need to add ridiculous dreams to his growing list of psychoses. It just made the reality of his Blaine-less life that much more painful. Kurt pulled the sheet roughly aside, bracing himself for yet another long day at the office and even longer night in his home studio.

A flash of purple caught his eye as he started to rise. He spread his legs wide, staring down at the dark, golf ball sized bruise on his right inner thigh. A trail of reddened bite marks led down from the mark nearly to his knee. Kurt was suddenly very glad he was still sitting down, or he'd have fallen. Marking Kurt that way was one of Blaine’s guilty pleasures. 

It was private thing, for just the two of them. Blaine loved seeing the dark color contrasting against Kurt's alabaster skin, knowing he'd caused it. It was one the things they'd had to talk about at the beginning of their relationship. The claiming marks made Blaine feel guilty; he didn’t think it was an okay thing to become so aroused by causing injury, no matter how minor, to his lover. 

Kurt had straight out laughed off his concerns, asking when exactly he gave Blaine the impression that Kurt was in any way fragile, despite his unfortunate nickname. Kurt had no problem wearing evidence of Blaine's claim on his body. And, he'd told his boyfriend firmly, it was totally hot. 

But much more relevant to the current situation was the fact that there was literally no physical way that Kurt could've done that type of injury to himself in his sleep. It meant that yesterday had been real; Blaine had come back to him.

Before Kurt could climb out of bed, Blaine appeared at the bedroom door with two cups of coffee and a shy smile. To Kurt’s confusion and disappointment, the slave was already dressed; wearing jeans and a plain tee, a far cry from his normal dolled up state. It looked like Blaine had put just enough effort into his hair to take it down a notch from 'birds nest'. His gaze trailed down Kurt's bare form, lingering on the silver dollar sized hickey. Blaine's cheeks pinked even as his eyes darkened. 

Kurt smirked, sitting up further in bed, bending his leg up and angling it away so that his boyfriend had a better view of his handiwork. Kurt smirked when Blaine gasped softly, eyed wide as he stared. Blaine wasn't the only one who knew how to pose. 

"Wow. That's...really big. I feel like maybe I should apologize," Blaine commented absently, gaze still locked on the mark high on Kurt's inner thigh. Kurt raised an eyebrow at the word choice, snorting in amusement.

"Oh my God," Blaine laughed as he approached, handing Kurt one of the cups. "I meant the hickey, you pervert." He ran his palm, warm from holding the hot porcelain cup, against Kurt's skin, rubbing his thumb delicately over the bruise. 

Kurt laughed. "Fine. Pop my ego. Seriously though, are you sorry you did it?"

"No," Blaine admitted, still rubbing gently. Even after years of being each other's everything, it still awed Blaine that Kurt allowed him to mark his body like that. Admittedly, Blaine didn't typically leave marks of that magnitude. But last night...last night he'd just needed to see it. Proof that Kurt had forgiven him, still wanted him, and allowed him this. 

"Then I see no reason for an apology,” Kurt told him firmly. “I also see no reason to be awake at this hour. I distinctly recall getting the day off work. Did you set my alarm?"

"I did." Blaine took the half emptied cup from Kurt's hand and placed them both on the nightstand.  


He crawled over and straddled Kurt's legs so he could sit astride his lap. Blaine leaned in, placing soft, wet kisses behind Kurt's ear. Blaine gradually moved lower, the kisses mere feather-light brushes of his lips as he worked his way down to the curve of Kurt's shoulder.

"I'm sorry, babe. I just...the licensing office opens at 8a." Blaine murmured the words as he nibbled, paying special attention to Kurt's hot spots.

"Wha..what offices?" Kurt asked, not hiding a whimper. Really, it was unfair of Blaine to expect rational thought from Kurt in this position. He rested his hands on Blaine's hips, sliding them under the tee shirt so that he could stroke the warm skin. 

"Licensing,” Blaine repeated. “I was hoping we could get there when they opened. You don't have to get glammed up or anything, just throw on a quick shirt and jeans. Please? Then we can come back here and spend the rest of the day in bed." Blaine kissed Kurt repeatedly on the lips as he spoke, no tongue, just soft hints of Blaine’s lips against his owner’s.  


"Please, Kurt? You promised."

Kurt was confused. What was Blaine asking him for? Well, begging really. Kurt was all for it, if Blaine wanted him to do it that badly. If only Kurt understood exactly what his boyfriend was asking of him.

He placed a hand on Blaine's chest, pushing him back just a little. Blaine moved as directed, but he began rolling his hips deliberately into Kurt's, causing the most amazing friction. Kurt fought his body’s urge to just lay back and enjoy the contact. Blaine still wanted something from him. 

"Blaine…Blaine, stop a second. I can’t think when you’re doing that, baby. What are you asking me for? I'll do it," he promised hastily. "As soon as I figure out what it is.”  


Blaine stilled his motions and dropped his gaze. "I need you to fix it. My paperwork, I mean. You promised last night that you would, remember? I really need to belong to you again. Please?" He began to tremble slightly, despite his efforts to stay calm.

Blaine needed Kurt to be his master. He was drifting and nervous without that safety net. He felt disjointed, his body tethered to the world by kite strings. Kurt was the only one he trusted with his life. Blaine had already fought off a panic attack once that morning in the kitchen when he thought about anyone other than Kurt having control of him, and he felt another looming.

The light finally dawned for Kurt and he pulled Blaine back up against his body, wrapping his arms tightly around the man on his lap. Blaine whimpered softly against shoulder, relaxing into the hug. 

"Blaine, honey, any and all proof that you are anything but mine is currently in a tiny pile on my studio floor," Kurt promised.

"But, it had a seal on it, and it was certified. Wasn't it?" Blaine asked hesitantly,

"Yes, it was. But that was on my end. Cooper still needed to sign before the form could even be sent off. Did you really think there was any way I'd just let you go to Cooper without having a very long, face-to-face talk with him? At the absolute least I wanted his oath against whatever he held dear that he'd always call me if you wanted to come back so I could come for you."

"So...that's all? Just like that? That was the only copy? There’s nothing else needs to be done to finalize things?" Blaine asked, tone cautious. 

"Yes, that’s all. Yes, just like that, and no, not a thing. You already took care of it, my love. In a spectacularly dramatic fashion, I might add," Kurt teased.

Relief flooded through Blaine's body and he sagged in Kurt's arm. "Thank you, Master," he whispered in Kurt's ear, pressing his body as close to Kurt’s as he could get. Kurt squeezed him tighter in response. 

Just then the alarm clock decided that that was quite enough of that and ripped into the silence, the alarm steamrolling over their tender moment. Blaine laughed at Kurt's annoyed groan, crawling off his lap to turn the device off. 

"I can't believe you made me wake up early on my precious day off," Kurt grumped as Blaine settled back down beside him.

"I'm sorry," Blaine replied. "It seemed like a good idea at the time. But look at it this way, now you get to go back to sleep for as long as you want,” Blaine paused. “Or..." his voice trailed off as he slid his fingertips suggestively up Kurt's thigh. 

"Or?" Kurt asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Or I can make it up to you." Blaine's smile turned wicked and his eyes gleamed. 

"That could work," Kurt murmured, entranced by that smile. 

Blaine laughed and gracefully rolled up to a high kneel. He pulled his shirt off slowly, making a show of it. The fabric trailed up his chest, revealing his dark treasure trail, perfectly toned six-pack abs, then his muscular pectorals and dark nipples. Blaine stopped, his body tensing in surprise by the feeling of Kurt's hand lightly tracing along his stomach while his shirt occluded his vision. Blaine hastily tugged it off the rest of the way off and tossed it unceremoniously to the ground. 

Kurt ran his fingers inside the waistline of Blaine’s jeans suggestively, waiting patiently for his boyfriend to make the next move. Blaine startled easily, but usually preferred to continue once he had himself back under control.

Blaine reached for Kurt’s other hand, deliberately setting it against his abs. Taking the hint, Kurt trailed his hand down and undid the button and zipper to Blaine's jeans one handed. He wasn't wearing underwear. Kurt tugged the jeans down low to Blaine's mid thighs, urging his lover with soft words to pull his very erect cock and testicles out so they rested on display over the denim. 

Blaine shivered as he obeyed, staying still and pliant on his knees, awaiting his owner’s hands on that part of his anatomy. Kurt ran his fingers along Blaine's 'V', stroking along his inner thighs, close, so close, but not quite touching his lover’s fiercely aroused cock. 

Once Kurt had Blaine whimpering, his hips twitching in tiny thrusts, he had Blaine sit back just long enough so that he could pull the jeans completely off before quickly tugging him back to his previous high kneeling position over Kurt’s legs. Blaine stared briefly down at his aching cock before looking up at Kurt hopefully. 

"Put your hands behind you back," Kurt ordered softly. 

Blaine whimpered but obeyed, locking his fingers together at the small of his back. Blaine couldn't tolerate being tied up in any fashion, not even the gentlest of bow-tied scarves. They'd tried several times in a variety of ways over the years but Blaine immediately started to panic the moment he felt the pressure against his wrists. But this type of restraint was something he could tolerate. More than tolerate, as his cock clearly demonstrated, spurting tiny drops of precum down the head as he obeyed the command. Blaine settled back on his haunches, spreading his knees wide, deliberately making his body fully exposed for his lover to play with.

"Oh, good boy,” Kurt purred, his eyes dark with lust. "You're so beautiful, my love. So amazing. I just want to touch you everywhere."

"Go ahead," Blaine whispered, pushing his chest forward in invitation. "I'm all yours. You can do anything you want to me. I want you to. Please, Kurt? I need you so badly." 

Kurt leaned forward and kissed him, slowly deepening the kiss, his tongue demanding entrance. Blaine moaned, kissing back with equal fervor. 

One of Kurt’s wandering hands found a pert nipple and he rolled the nub in his fingers before pinching hard. Blaine gasped at the sting. It hurt a little more than Blaine typically preferred, but his hips jutted forward nonetheless, cock straining for attention. Blaine’s breathing picked up at the handling, with just a touch of nervousness mingling with his intense arousal, heightening all the sensations coursing through his exposed body. 

"Easy love. I've got you. Just relax, and let me touch," Kurt crooned. 

Blaine liked having his boundaries pushed sometimes, being taken just a little past his comfort zones. It was all about trust. Blaine trusted Kurt to know when it was not enough or too much, when to back them down from intensity to playful lovemaking. Right now, Blaine’s body shook gently, but there was no sign of stress or fear. His eyes were closed, tuned in completely to the feel of Kurt's hand on his skin. Kurt leaned forward and licked at the abused nipple with the flat of his tongue. He ran a hand up and down Blaine's inner thigh, letting the back of his hand bump against his balls with each stroke. Blaine's cock jerked at each touch, though he kept his body still. 

Kurt kissed his way across Blaine's chest to the other nipple, taking the bud in his teeth and biting down. Blaine automatically jerked away at the sharp sensation. Growling, Kurt took Blaine's testicles with the hand that had been on his thigh, rolling them gently for a moment before taking them in a firm grip. "Be still," he told his lover sternly.

"I'm sorry." Blaine leaned back into place, offering his nipples up to the attention. Kurt ran the tip of his tongue in a circle around the nipple he'd just bitten, squeezing Blaine's balls in gentle warning before setting his teeth back against the bud. This time he increased the pressure slowly. Blaine hissed at the sensation, but kept his body obediently arched forward. Kurt let go of the nub, moving his mouth to Blaine's neck, kissing and nuzzling at the soft skin there.

Blaine's head rolled back and he didn't try to hide his moan. His nipples throbbed in time with his cock, and Kurt's hand relentlessly rolled and stroked at his balls while his mouth did the most delicious things to his neck.

"Please, Kurt. Please!" He was shaking harder now, and it had nothing to do with anxiety. He felt like his body was one big nerve. Blaine fought back the overwhelming desire to just thrust his cock forward against Kurt's body for some urgently needed friction. But if Kurt didn't touch him there soon, Blaine was going to explode.

"Please what, honey?" Kurt asked, his voice warm and teasing. Blaine bit back a growl. Kurt knew damn well 'what'.

"Stop teasing, please. Bite your way down if you want, leave teeth or fingernail stripes the whole way. I don't care. I just need to be touched," Blaine answered, not hiding the desperation in his tone. 

"I'm not the one who likes to leave their partner black and blue, darling," Kurt reminded him, his voice amused.

Blaine's eyes opened at that and he looked down at his mark on Kurt's thigh, the bruise glaringly obvious against his owner’s alabaster skin. Kurt laughed when he saw the way Blaine stared, obligingly spreading his legs so Blaine could look his fill. 

Kurt took his hands completely off Blaine's body, ignoring the small sound of complaint. He scooted back on the bed a little, moving so he wasn’t under Blaine anymore, and kicked pillows aside so he had room to crouch on all fours in front of the slave. Kurt felt Blaine's stare as he moved, heard him gulp when Kurt’s head moved to eye level with Blaine's cock. Kurt leaned forward, blowing gently on the head. 

Blaine's whole body shook at the stimulus. "Please Kurt, can I..."

"Keep them behind your back or I'll stop," Kurt interrupted, staring challengingly up into pleading brown eyes. It was a lie and they both knew it. Kurt would never leave him hard and aching like this. But Blaine complied, anyway. 

"Then do something, Kurt. Anything. I'm dying here.” 

Kurt raised an eyebrow before turning back to his task. He leaned forward and licked delicately across the head, once, twice, three times, lapping across that one spot of skin. 

"K...Kurrt...God, it hurts!" Blaine whimpered. He was so hard. 

Kurt just smiled at him before slowly, so slowly, taking the head completely into his mouth and sucking delicately. No force in the universe could keep Blaine from moving his hips at this point and rocked forward with gentle, barely there strokes in and out of Kurt's hot mouth. Kurt hummed in approval, so Blaine thrust a little more. After a moment, Kurt squeezed a warning on Blaine’s thigh and the slave obediently stilled his hips. Blaine's chest was heaving with the effort of controlling his body and not just fucking into Kurt's mouth. Blaine knew Kurt would happily let him do it, but this was Kurt’s game. Blaine would play along for as long as he could stand it. Which would be for about 30 more seconds if Kurt continued to tease like this. 

Kurt began running his mouth slowly up and down the length of Blaine's cock, rubbing a thumb against his balls. The addition of that gentle teasing was what finally pushed Blaine over the edge. He unlocked his hands from behind his back and reached forward to pull Kurt off him and surged forward, shoving Kurt onto his back and taking his mouth in a brutal, desperate kiss. 

Kurt's moan of delight spurred Blaine on, indicating that Kurt was perfectly on board with the changing up their game. Blaine grinned, he was ready to lighten the tone.

"I can't decide what I want more," Blaine spoke breathlessly between kisses. "Your mouth back on me or to suck you off till you come."

"Not...not mutually exclusive, you know," Kurt answered back, groaning when Blaine's hand found his dick and began expertly stroking. 

Now there was an idea. Blaine couldn't remember the last time they'd done that and why the hell hadn't they? He pulled back, kissing Kurt's lips in quick pecks as they maneuvered themselves. "You (kiss) are so (kiss) fucking (kiss) brilliant." 

One more quick kiss, and a comical wiggle of his eyebrows that had Kurt laughing that bright, musical sound that Blaine loved, and the slave flipped around 90 degrees so that his head was facing the door. He rolled onto his side and reached for Kurt's hips, grabbing his upper leg and pulled it over his body so that Kurt was spread open for him and Blaine was lying face to dick.

Blaine didn't wait until Kurt had taken position against his body before he began, swallowing him whole, sucking hard and bobbing along the straining length. Kurt yelped in surprise before grabbing at Blaine and spreading his lover’s legs wide so that he had room to work.

Kurt attempted to get scattered thoughts together, but really, how was he expected to do that when his extremely talented lover was working his cock in and out of his mouth like he was starving for it? Focusing, Kurt took a deep breath and started in on Blaine's erection. 

Deliberately keeping himself from matching Blaine's rapid pace, Kurt contented himself with slow, relaxed sucks, casually working his mouth up and down the shaft. After a few minutes, he felt Blaine slowing down as well, and thank god, because if Blaine did that much longer then Kurt was totally going to forget he had a dick of his own to play with and would bury his head in Blaine's groin until his lover drove him to orgasm. Not that there was anything inherently wrong with that plan, but Kurt had something else in mind. Because he was on the end of the bed where the pillows lived. And if he recalled from last night, under Blaine's pillow should be...Kurt felt around, forgetting what he was doing for a minute as Blaine released his cock to delicately suck one of Kurt's testicles into his mouth...there! Kurt's fingers had spread when he clawed at the sheets and had accidentally contacted the plastic bottle.

Back on track, at least while Blaine paused long enough to switch over and give the other ball the same attention, Kurt focused enough to pop the cap and coat the fingers of one hand in the slick stuff. Doing his absolute best to not lose himself to Blaine's ministrations, Kurt backed off a little, taking only part of Blaine’s length in his mouth. Because there was every chance that when he did this...

Blaine screamed around Kurt's cock as he felt a slick digit plunge into his hole. He bucked forward automatically; making Kurt glad he'd backed off so he wouldn't choke. 

Blaine had not expected that. He'd been so engrossed in feeling Kurt sliding along his dick while his own mouth was thoroughly stuffed that he’d had no attention to spare for anything else, like say, the sound of a lube cap snapping open.

Blaine gasped, pulling off Kurt's cock just long enough to speak. "More, baby, please more." He grabbed Kurt's hips in a tight hold and flipped them so that Kurt was on his back and Blaine was on all fours above him. 

That worked for Kurt. This new position made it easier for him to slide his fingers into Blaine's hole. It also meant that if he twisted his wrist just so...Blaine froze above him, overwhelmed by the sensation of two fingers pressing deep into his ass. He rested his head on Kurt's thigh, lost in the feeling of the fingers working within him and Kurt's mouth swallowing around his cock. Once he could think again, Blaine began rocking his hips so he was gently sliding into Kurt's mouth. Kurt's other hand reached around to grab and squeeze at his cheek, spurring him on. 

Feeling Kurt's cock twitch against his cheek reminded Blaine that he wasn't limited to enjoying what was going on between his thighs. He opened his mouth wide and took Kurt to the root. 

This was good. This was so good. Blaine stopped thinking altogether and lost himself to the pleasure gripping him from so many different places. He didn't notice his orgasm was building up to explosive levels until it was too late and he was pumping hot cum down Kurt's throat. 

Blaine collapsed onto Kurt's body beneath him, his limbs no longer in any state to support his weight. His body shook with the aftereffects of the intense orgasm. Kurt didn't interfere with his moment of glow, stroking his hand in soothing circles on Blaine's back as his body calmed down. 

"God, Kurt," Blaine groaned. 'That was...I don't have words for what that was." 

"Ditto," Kurt replied, giggling slightly. The sound woke Blaine from his post orgasmic stupor. Kurt seemed awfully giddy for someone who should be blissed out on endorphins. Blaine opened his eyes, seeing the hard length in front him and realized Kurt had yet to come. Well, he couldn't have that. 

Blaine swung back around so that he was still atop his lover but now they were eye to eye. Kurt's face was shiny with saliva and there was a thin trail of come where he hadn't quite managed to swallow it all. He was gorgeous. 

Blaine crawled over to edge of the bed where they'd tossed his tee shirt and bent down to scoop it up. He wiggled his ass for Kurt's benefit while he was bent over, and was completely unsurprised to feel the smack a moment later. He wiggled again, just to make a point, then turned back and pushed Kurt back down, grabbing some pillows to prop him up to partially sitting. Blaine sat on his lap, tenderly wiping Kurt's face clean then swiped at his own before tossing the shirt away. 

He leaned forward, taking Kurt's mouth in a claiming kiss, loving the taste of himself on Kurt's tongue. With a salacious grin, Blaine reached behind him and took Kurt's neglected erection in his hand. He lined himself up and slowly worked his ass down onto the cock, quickly seating himself since Kurt had effectively stretched him earlier. 

"Oh my god, Blaine. You feel so good," Kurt groaned, head falling back, eyes closed.

"That's it, baby," Blaine encouraged as he began move up and down. "Just sit back and enjoy the ride."

Kurt's snorted laugh turned into a moan as Blaine slammed himself down onto Kurt's cock. "I'm not gonna last long," Kurt warned. He'd been on the edge the whole time they were 69'ing, and with Blaine's tight heat taking all of him like that he gave his control minutes. At best.

"That's fine, love. After the orgasm I just had, I'm not getting hard again any time soon. I just want you to come for me. I can feel it building, you're so hard inside my ass, so fucking perfect filling me like this."

Kurt groaned. God, Blaine's mouth. He slammed his hips up a few times, meeting Blaine's down strokes. Two, three, by the fourth thrust he was coming hard. Blaine felt it and slammed down onto Kurt's hips, feeling Kurt's cock pulsing inside him. 

Kurt's body sagged as he panted, boneless and sated. Blaine gave him a second before slowly pulling himself off the softening cock and trotted quickly away toward the bathroom.

"Where do you think you're going?" Kurt demanded wearily, raising himself up as Blaine climbed off the bed.

"I was thinking washcloths, warm soapy water? Unless you like drying cum and lube turning to glue in your pubic hair?" Blaine asked in amusement.

"No way. We are way too messy for wash clothes. Shower time." He pulled himself up and caught Blaine's arm, tugging him along behind him. "And after that, someone promised me I could go back to bed and sleep as long as I wanted. And I don't know that I'll be able to sleep without cuddles so you’re obligated to join me." 

Blaine grinned, allowing himself to be pulled to the bathroom. He unclasped his collar, dropping it onto the little bathroom shelf while Kurt started the shower.

"We’re good, right?" Kurt asked seriously, watching Blaine slide a hand under the cascading water to check the temperature. 

Blaine smiled. He pressed himself up against Kurt beautifully naked body and wrapped his arms around Kurt's waist to pull them together. "We’re perfect."


	11. Chapter 11

Kurt stretched his arms over his head and yawned. He was currently reclining comfortably on one of the wide full-length lounge chairs by the pool, sated and more relaxed than he'd been for weeks. Reconnecting with one another had been been wonderful, almost dreamlike after the last few weeks. But the unwelcome intrusion of his alarm clock this morning still irked him a little. 

Kurt intellectually understood why Blaine had felt the need to wake him so early, even if it a rare and precious day off. The paperwork that dictated the slave's existence was vital to Blaine, and it was only fair that he would want to take the necessary steps to ensure that Kurt remained his legal owner as soon as he could. Of course, the paperwork had been far from completed, and Blaine's panicked shredding of the document had more than adequately destroyed any written proof of a change of ownership. But Blaine had no way of knowing that. Kurt knew all of these things, but still; he’d had to get up early on his day off.

After rising from a long and much deserved nap earlier in the day, the couple had moved to the kitchen where they'd made breakfast together. Afterwards, Blaine had situated himself on one of the island stools, safely out of the way while he watched Kurt bake a few batches of cookies. A significant portion of the batter may not have made it past Blaine's 'taste testing.’ It was familiar and comforting to just relax in each other's company, sharing the things the've always done. 

Kurt's phone had been blissfully silent all morning, no doubt due to his protective secretary. Blaine appreciated the gesture but at the same time worried that completely disappearing for the day like that would cause problems for his boyfriend. He'd feel terrible if he was responsible for damaging Kurt's business.

"I make clothes, Blaine," Kurt told him, laughing. "I'm not a trauma surgeon. Despite what some of my clients may think, no one is going die if I'm inaccessible for a day or two. And I happen to be very aware of where my priorities lie" he added smiling intently. Blaine blushed slightly at that and didn't ask about work anymore. 

Neither man was in any hurry to get to 'the talk'. It had to happen, but there was no urgency. Instead, they discussed what they'd been doing the last several weeks, enjoying the time to catch up with each other's lives. Blaine had been out working with Wes quite a bit and needed to be brought up to speed on some fairly vital office gossip. 

Though he regretted with ever fiber of his being the pain he'd caused his boyfriend, Blaine was nearly as torn to hear that in maintaining his disappearing act, he'd missed out on the intern designer who'd firmly groped Santana's ass. Unlike Blaine, who'd initially had a difficult time truly comprehending Kurt's mandate banning unwanted sexual attention, Santana had no problem embracing the concept. But her years as a hotel whore had left their mark, and now that she no longer had to endure such activity with a sexy smile, she tended to react...strongly to unwanted contact. 

Apparently, the intern had grabbed her by the collar and shoved her against a wall while his free hand found her ass for some solid groping. The man’s plan backfired when Santana jerked away, triggering the quick- release catch Kurt built into all the slave collars he created, and freed herself from his hold. The Latina had the intern in a headlock in seconds, loudly ripping into him in Spanish all the while. 

"Oh god, is she in trouble?" Blaine asked. He'd had the misfortune to work with that designer before, and the image of the man getting a much-needed ass kicking at the hands of his petite friend amused him, but he was worried that his friend could get in trouble for the violence. 

"She'll be fine," Kurt assured him. "That wasn't even the big deal. Shockingly, our Satan showed remarkable restraint and stopped with the headlock. No, the real action started when Dani went back there to see what was going on."

Blaine dropped his head to the counter, smacking it gently into marble a few times. "So, is Wes prepping us for the law suit, then?" Dani had zero tolerance for anyone handling her girlfriend. The roller girl’s fierce protective streak had gotten them into trouble more than once. 

"Nope. No trouble. The guy signed my standard agreement contract for interns and employees when he signed on. Haven’t you seen that? It includes, in bold, the rules about handling any models in my employ or ownership.” 

Blaine shook his head. "I haven’t, but maybe I’ll look at it next time I go in. So, he dropped everything? Just like that?"

"Mostly, yeah. He agreed to disappear quietly and I agreed not to blackball him from the fashion world, though I did warn him it was really best that he not put me down as a reference." 

Sucked for that guy. Blaine hadn't liked him, but his work had potential. And as a new grad, securing one of the few internships available with KH Designs had been a rare opportunity. Not that Blaine sympathized. The asshole had tried to molest his best friend. The career-making opportunity was wasted on someone who made such poor choices. 

After lunch, the couple watched TV for a while, eventually grabbing a bottle of wine and making their way out to the pool. Kurt hadn't stayed in the water long, opting to hang out on the shaded lounge chair, watching while Blaine messed around on the water slide and did some laps. Kurt really liked the laps part. 

But now the day's light was fading to the darker hues of late sunset, and Blaine had disappeared for a quick shower and change in the mudroom. It had been a good day, Kurt reflected as he gazed distantly into his wine glass. The best he could remember in a while. 

He heard footsteps, looking up to see a dry and jean-clad Blaine strolling over. Apparently he'd decided it was far too much trouble to put on a shirt. Kurt sighed at the beauty walking towards him. The man really was impossibly good looking.

Blaine smiled at Kurt as he sauntered up, basking in the appreciative gleam and loving smile directed at him. Blaine always enjoyed the way Kurt's eyes lit up when he saw him, but he never really understood how much he needed to see it until it was gone. Cliché, of course. But after walking into Kurt's studio yesterday to that remote, guarded expression, he'd learned what heartbreak felt like. And he would never those warm gazes for granted again. 

Blaine dropped into Kurt's chair, draping his body over his boyfriend. Blaine wriggled a little, making himself comfortable in Kurt's lap. He wrapped an arm around Kurt's waist and rested his head on his chest, sighing in contentment. Kurt began rubbing soft, relaxing circles on the delightfully bare skin of Blaine’s warm back while the slave watched the colorfully lit waves in the pool shift and roll in the fading light. They stayed that way for a while, enjoying the quiet time together. 

"I graduated from junior high with a 4.2 out of 4 grade point average," Blaine spoke softly into the silence. "I had one of those honor classes that bumps you over a 4.0 if you get an A, you know? Some form of math, I think ." 

Kurt sucked in his breath, keeping his peace. Blaine had never discussed his pre-slave life with him before. Never. He said he was taught at the rookery that his life began there, brutally conditioned to answer any question about his past with 'Omaha Rookery.' 

Kurt continued to rub along Blaine's tense back, supporting without interrupting. Blaine was quiet after that and Kurt wondered if that was all he was going to say.

Eventually, though, Blaine continued. "For as long as I can remember I wanted to be a performer. I played guitar, piano, even some violin, and of course, I sung. I was so excited when I started high school because they had a specialty concert choir, and even though they didn't often take freshman, I was absolutely determined to get in. And I made it, too.” 

He snuggled closer to Kurt's body. "A few weeks before...before everything changed, audition flyers went up for the school play. West Side Story." He snorted a wet laugh. "I signed up right away to try out for Tony. I didn't care that freshmen never got leading roles, I was going to be the exception." 

"You would have made a great Tony," Kurt murmured to him. "Perfect, in some respects." 

"Yeah, I think so, too." Blaine replied, a hint of humor tinting his voice. "I know for a fact that I nailed the audition."

He paused, taking a deep breath, hoping to get this out without breaking down. "One day I was walking down the hallway to class when one of the guidance counselors said they needed to see me for a minute. I went to her office and two acquisition officers were already there, waiting for me. They cuffed my hands behind my back and dragged me out the closest emergency exit as soon as the class bell rang. I don't think anyone even noticed them." 

Kurt squeezed him tight. He didn't want to interrupt, but he needed to offer whatever comfort he could. Blaine wasn't crying, but his eyes were red-rimmed and distant, lost to past phantoms. "I dreamed about those officers for years," Blaine whispered. "Nightmares where they were ten feet tall and carried smoldering staffs". 

"Anyway, there was a van parked across the street from my school. Plain white, like you always see in movies. They dragged me inside and pushed me to my knees, stretching me out over this long frame and locking my wrists in cuffs. Then this woman was there, talking to me while the men sliced my shirt off. She told me that my parents had tax debts and they'd sold me to pay them off." Blaine shivered a little in Kurt's arms, staying pressed as tightly as he could to his lover, fighting to keep his mind firmly in the present, where he was safe and loved.

"I didn't believe her, at first. I mean, they were my parents, right? They loved me, and I'd never had reason to doubt it. And then I wasn't thinking about anything at all because one of the agents gagged me while the other one pressed the branding iron against my back, holding it there forever. It burned, so bad. Worse than anything I'd ever felt in my life, well at that point in my life, anyway. I screamed and screamed, struggling to get away from it. But I couldn't move and he didn't stop." 

Kurt was crying now, holding Blaine close against him. He rubbed his fingers over the slightly raised characters on Blaine's back, his lover's status in the world forever seared into his flesh by fire and pain. 

"The smell of burning flesh, it's awful," Blaine continued, his voice distant. "It lingered in the van for the whole journey. God, that trip was horrible. They didn't let me off that frame for a really long time, and when they finally did I got my first experience with slave lock. They hooked me to a bolt in the side of the van. It's humiliating, being bound like that with a cheap plastic leash and a collar. And there's nothing you can do about it. They even left me alone in there while they went to get dinner and I just curled up on the floor, hands tied, back throbbing. There was nothing I could do." 

"Jesus, Blaine," Kurt whispered. Hearing the clear distress in Kurt's tone, Blaine sat up, looking into Kurt's devastated expression, his blue eyes filled with tears. Blaine's realized his own eyes were still dry. He'd had honestly expected that he'd end up hysterical when he finally opened himself up to those memories. But here, safe in Kurt's arms, he felt like he could deal with it. He was sad of course, and a part of him was still so very angry, but the old memories didn’t overwhelm him. It was in the past, and shouldn't have power over him any more. He'd shed no more tears for the past. 

Blaine leaned forward and kissed Kurt, wiping his eyes tenderly. "Hey, you don’t need to cry. It's okay, love," Blaine told him sincerely. That there was someone in the world he could share this with, who could grieve with him for his lost life and keep him grounded and safe, that made everything okay. 

Kurt reached out a shaky hand for his wine glass, gulping it down. Blaine raised an eyebrow at the gesture. "Did that help?" He asked curiously. His voice was rough, but still held a hint of amusement.

"Not really. There's not enough wine in the world to help with what you just told me." 

"Yeah," Blaine agreed. He smiled faintly. "But it's over now. It happened, I survived. And now I have you. Sometimes I feel like the universe finally decided it owed me for all the hell it put me through, so it sent me here." 

Kurt eyes sparked with tears again. "Damn it, Blaine. I'd just managed to stop crying and then you say something like that." 

Blaine smiled. Talking about it had been easier then he'd thought. It gave him the strength to tell Kurt the last part. 

"There's umm, a little more. My friend Nate kissed me during my fifteenth birthday party. My first kiss. It was strange, you know, like all the weird impulses I'd been feeling just came together into a moment of perfect clarity."

"Yeah?" Kurt asked. It hadn't been like that for him. He'd pretty much known since the hormones kicked in which way the wind was blowing. And of course, Dave had made Kurt's first kiss the wrong kind of memorable. 

"How'd that work out for you?" He asked Blaine curiously, dismissing his own past.

"I was surprised at first, then just turned on." Blaine blushed. "I decided I needed more information so I got a bunch of magazines, solely for the purpose of investigation, of course." He glanced up at Kurt, seeing his boyfriend's eyes bright with amusement. 

"Of course. You had to, for Science. And what did all your thorough research lead you to conclude?" Kurt was picturing a young Blaine locked in his room with a stack full of dirty magazines taking studious notes.

"I realized that boys are totally hot and vaginas…not so much," Blaine told him. "I decided they looked like furry Venus flytraps and the thought of sticking my dick in one completely freaked me out." Kurt laughed outright at that. 

Blaine grinned back briefly, then admitted the last part. "In retrospect, it might not have been the best idea to share the new revelation with my parents, though. I came out to them a week or so before I was taken."

Kurt took a second to absorb that. "Fucking son of a bitch assholes!" He exploded, a moment later. Blaine jerked back, momentarily alarmed by the words and tone. He watched Kurt warily for second, waiting for his boyfriend to calm down a little. 

Kurt didn't cuss much, but there just weren't enough words vile enough to convey how he felt. "They sold you because you were gay. Like, 'hey son, you like boys? Well, at least I can make a profit off you." It was bad enough when parents disowned their gay kids. But this was a whole new level of awful. What kind of people would sell their child into slavery because of whom he was born to love? 

Kurt had known that Blaine's parents had sold him for some kind of tax write-off. Cooper's private investigator had explained the whole sordid thing to them over lunch one day. But he hadn't known the rest of it. Realizing that his outburst was upsetting his lover, Kurt took a few deep, calming breaths before placing an arm gently back around the slave. Blaine allowed himself to be tugged back, snuggling close once more. 

"I happen to agree with all that," Blaine agreed softly. "But it all happened a long time ago. And things are so different now. I have you, Burt and Carol who all but adopted me, Finn and Rachel, that crazy Kitten chick who taught me how to defend myself, Wes, the list goes on." 

Blaine stood up back to refill Kurt's wine glass from the bottle at the side table, sitting back down so he was straddling Kurt's thighs. He didn't hand the glass back, instead taking a sip thoughtfully. "It's like the domino effect, you know? If I hadn't been taken away, I'd never have met Santana, and she'd have died a sex slave in that damn hotel, and she and Dani would never have met and fallen in love. I may never have met you. It's like all these bad things had to happen to me so the good things could follow." 

"You're the most amazing person I've ever met," Kurt told him, awed by Blaine's resilience.

Blaine set down the wine and took Kurt's hands. "I feel the same way about you, you know. You shared more then your heart with me, Kurt. You shared your life, your family and friends. You created this whole little world for me where I can be a person. You give me room to be myself, to make my own choices, and the security I need when I can't." Blaine leaned his forehead against Kurt's. "I love you." 

"I love you, too," Kurt replied fervently. “So much.” 

"Seeing Cooper, it just opened up all these feelings, bad ones. I thought I'd gotten over them but I guess I just repressed it all. I started remembering my childhood and I just...I couldn't handle it. So I didn't."

"Was that the healthiest choice?" Kurt asked carefully.

"No," Blaine replied, chuckling softly. "I knew it, too. And I knew you'd want me to talk about Cooper and everything. About how I was handling seeing him after all this time. And then I'd have to feel and remember all the things I had locked away."

Blaine leaned forward to squeeze Kurt's hand. "So I decided I needed to avoid you for a bit. Just until I thought things through and could get a handle on all of it."

Kurt's nodded in understanding. He squeezed back reassuringly.

Blaine sniffed slightly. "So, that's really it. I was avoiding you so I didn't have to deal. I kept thinking, 'one more day, then I'll be ready.' And days became weeks without me really realizing it. Then Santana exploded on me and I realized just how badly I'd screwed up." 

"It's okay, Blaine," Kurt reassured. "I get it. But I would've understood, given you some space if you had just told me that." Blaine cocked an eyebrow in challenge.

"Okay, I would've given you space for a little while, anyway," Kurt amended. He smiled self depreciatingly. Kurt was a compulsive fixer; he wouldn't have been able to leave something like that alone to fester.

Blaine suddenly felt a strong urge to take a break from the heavy talk. He'd had about as much drama as he could handle for the moment. Glancing about for a suitable distraction, Blaine gazed landed briefly on the calm water. He cocked his head, looking Kurt over appraisingly.

"You look..." Blaine paused, eyeing his boyfriend.

"I look what?" Kurt asked warily. He recognized the gleam in Blaine's eye. It meant his boyfriend was up to no good.

"You look way too...dry." 

Kurt was up in a flash, dumping Blaine off his lap and running for the house. "Don't you dare even think about it, Blaine!" He hollered over his shoulder. 

He screeched when a laughing Blaine caught up with him, scooping Kurt's squirming body up into a fireman's carry. All those pretty muscles weren't nearly as impressive when they were keeping him bent over Blaine's shoulder, Kurt decided as he struggled against the hold.

"Put me down! Put me down right now!" Kurt wriggled and fought as they slowly approached the water. He'd just about managed to get free when Blaine shifted him of his shoulder and into his arms, bride-style.

Grinning for all he was worth, Blaine stepped over the edge of the pool, submerging them both in the warm, sun-kissed water. Kurt surfaced a moment later, sputtering angrily. 

"Oh, c'mon. That was funny," Blaine told his enraged boyfriend. Kurt's gaze turned murderous. Blaine cautiously swam backwards a few feet, deciding Kurt needed a little distance right then. "Now baby, remember, you love me." 

Kurt gave him his fiercest scowl. Blaine treaded water, smiling expectantly. "Okay fine, I love you," Kurt admitted. "For better and for worse," he added sourly.

Blaine smile threatened to split his face. "Oh, babe, it's definitely for better. And as soon as we get inside, I'll prove it to you." 

Kurt swam over towards him. "In a minute. Since we’re both already here, we are so trying the romantic underwater kiss thing."

"I'm pretty sure that doesn't really wo...", Blaine's words were cut off as Kurt grabbed a handful of his curls and dragged him underwater.

Blaine was right, Kurt decided as he swam towards the underwater stairs a few minutes later, slightly waterlogged. Blaine really was okay. And also right about the underwater kiss, Kurt admitted reluctantly. It didn't feel anything like it looked in the movies. Less romantic and more trying not to drown. Blaine tugged his soggy boyfriend out of the pool and the two dripping men made their way inside to make new memories.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is another chapter that is almost entirely smut. The last three paragraphs have some meaningful plot but I've written the next chapter so that you can skip this one without missing out on anything. Except for some semi-decent amateur Klaine porn, of course. ;-)

Once the couple extricated their sodden selves from the pool, Kurt dragged his boyfriend to their bedroom for a shower, the second within an hour for Blaine, though his token complaints ended rather abruptly once Kurt had him naked. 

Kurt leaned against the shower wall, watching the hot water pour down his lover's head as Blaine soaped himself clean. He watched, fascinated by the path of the water as it sluiced down Blaine’s chest, past his waist, along the V of his pelvis. Without conscious thought, Kurt pushed off the wall, reaching out and tugging Blaine out of the heavy spray, encouraging him with soft touches to turn and face the wall.

Blaine moved pliantly at the contact, taking the position Kurt wanted him in. He placed his hands up against the shower wall, bending a little at the waist. He expected to feel Kurt's warm body press up against his back, maybe a sneaky hand reaching around to stroke and tease his aching cock. Instead, two hands took a firm grip on Blaine’s ass, spreading his cheeks wide so an agile tongue could dive between them. Blaine jerked in surprise at the unexpected contact, settling down a moment later and leaning fully against the shower wall. He closed his eyes to better focus on the sensation. 

Blaine made a strangled sound as his lover’s tongue slowly worked its way inside him. He unabashedly spread his legs as wide as the shower space allowed to give Kurt room to work. God, he loved it when Kurt did this to him. It wasn't something that Kurt did all that often, not so much because Blaine wasn't into it, but rather the exact opposite. He came embarrassingly fast, every single time. 

Kurt was far too busy trying to drive his lover out of his mind to concern himself with how quickly Blaine might come. He used the flat of his tongue to lave over Blaine's hole, licking again and again, reveling in the wonderful noises floating down to him from above. Blaine wasn’t prone to overly verbal responses when he was pleasured, and Kurt treasured every whine and whimper, thrilled that he could get his boyfriend so worked up. 

Blaine panted and whined against the wall while Kurt tasted his fill, his legs shaking with the effort of staying upright. "Easy, lover," Kurt murmured, breaking away for just a second. "Just try and stay still for me." 

Kurt took a deep breath before making point with his tongue and thrusting into Blaine's ass, eating him out as thoroughly as he could manage. Blaine practically screamed at the new sensation, shakily bracing himself on one arm so that he could reach behind with the other hand, spreading himself as widely as possible for Kurt’s magical tongue. 

Kurt hummed his approval of the action, the vibrations earning him another loud moan from above, and reached around with his free hand to stroke Blaine’s cock, quick sharp jerks that matched the movement of his tongue. 

Blaine was distantly aware that the noises echoing obscenely within the closed shower stall were coming from him, but embarrassment was the furthest thing from his mind. What little focus Kurt hadn't tongue-fucked out of him was fully engaged in keeping his hips still so he didn't buck into Kurt's face. 

On the next upstroke around Blaine’s cock, Kurt ran his thumb deliberately over the head. Blaine screamed as the touch sent him rocking over the edge, his orgasm ripping through his body. Blaine slowly came down from the incredible climax, sagging against the wall as the hot water massaged his back while he panted away his exertion. He locked his legs, willing the quivering muscles to support his weight for just a little longer. He took his other hand back from where he’d been holding himself open, needing the extra anchor to stay upright. 

Kurt's tongue gentled inside of him after Blaine came, switching to soft kitten licks around the rim of the still-twitching hole. When even that touch became too much for Blaine’s sensitized body, he whined weakly, turning slightly so that he could squeeze at Kurt's shoulder, not up to articulating anything more advanced than whimpers quite yet. 

Kurt took the cue and backed away, resting on his heels and taking a moment to appreciate the view as Blaine's gluteal muscles clenched and twitched as he slowly came down from his orgasm. Once Blaine settled, Kurt reversed his position on the shower floor so that he was kneeling directly in the path of the shower spray. The water coursed down his tilted face, cleaning away the messy remnants and soothing his aching jaw. 

Blaine joined him on the floor a moment later, kneeling behind Kurt’s body. He pulled Kurt back to lean against him, smiling to himself when Kurt immediately accepted the invitation to cuddle. Kurt sighed contentedly, tipping his head back so it rested against his boyfriend's shoulder. 

Once Kurt was situated, Blaine dipped his head, nibbling along Kurt’s neck, slowly making his way to the super-sensitive place at the back of his lover’s ear. Blaine’s hand slowly wandered down Kurt’s body, settling on his erection and taking it in a water-slicked grip. They stayed that way, kneeling under the steady spray, their bodies shrouded by steam as Blaine took his time to expertly stroke his boyfriend to orgasm. It didn’t take very long; Kurt had been on the edge for a while. Blaine held tight as Kurt came, slowing his strokes along Kurt’s cock, prolonging the orgasm until Kurt couldn’t take any more stimulation. 

Blaine tugged them backwards so that he was leaning back against the shower wall, holding Kurt’s exhausted and sated body between his legs, curled bonelessly against Blaine's chest. The couple stayed that way until the water inevitably started to go cold.

Kurt felt it first, yelping as the cool water hit his skin, and jumped out of the shower stall. Blaine wasn’t as concerned; he stayed in long enough rise to a slow stand, rinsing any residual suds from his body. He had a fairly high tolerance for cold water, it had been all he’d been allowed to use for years, but Kurt absolutely hated it. By the time Blaine emerged, Kurt had finished toweling himself dry and launched his naked body towards the bed.

Kurt wriggled under the covers, his sated muscles still refusing to fully cooperate. Showers with Blaine tended to have that effect on him. And it had definitely been one of ‘those’ showers, when getting clean had been the last thing on either man’s mind.

Yep, Kurt thought to himself as he slid under the silky sheets, mental note; more showers with Blaine. A moment later his boyfriend crawled into the cocoon Kurt had made of the bed sheets and settled in behind him. Apparently Blaine had decided that he wanted to be big spoon tonight. 

Blaine usually preferred to lean back into Kurt, wrapped securely in his owner’s arms, but tonight he really wanted to do the holding. Kurt never seemed to mind either position, and pressed back against Blaine with a contented sigh. 

Kurt idly rubbed his fingers along Blaine's arm, wanting to talk a little more before they fell asleep, but a little apprehensive about breaking the mood.

"What is it, baby?" Blaine asked softly. "I can hear the wheels churning away in that lovely head of yours. You can ask me anything, it's okay."

Kurt rolled over in Blaine’s arms so that he could see his face. "I wanted to talk to you about your ownership documents," he admitted. Blaine's face clouded over.

“Just here me out, okay?” Kurt pressed. “I think I managed to pick up on your subtle cues that you want to keep my name on it." Blaine smiled at that, ducking his head. 

Kurt reached a hand to Blaine’s face, stroking gently. "And, trust me, I wouldn't have it any other way. But you know that it doesn’t have to be just my name, right?" 

Blaine blinked at that. He knew that it was true, though he hadn't really thought about it. A slave may have multiple owners. Sometimes families that couldn't afford one on their own would go in together and split the cost, take turns using the slave's services. It was typically for housework or other mundane tasks. Not a rough job by any means. Most of the shared slaves Blaine had met during his travels seemed decently cared for and comfortable with their lives. But Blaine had never really thought about how that situation could be applied to his case.

"I'm not pushing you in any direction," Kurt told him, stroking a thumb down his cheek. "I just want you to be aware of all your options. If you had both Cooper's name and mine listed, you could legally be with either of us, anytime." 

Blaine wasn't sure what to think of the idea. He knew it would make Cooper happy, and as Kurt said, it created options for him, but his instincts seemed inherently opposed the idea.

"I'll think about it, okay? And I'll let you know?" He offered finally.

"That's perfect." Kurt leaned forward to nuzzle into Blaine's neck. "There's no rush. I just want you to know it's up to you." It always was, with Kurt. The man constantly strived to make sure Blaine had as many choices as possible. 

"Thank you," he told Kurt simply. 

Kurt made a 'hmmm' noise at him as he rolled back over and settled in Blaine's arms. A few minutes later his breathing evened out into sleep. Blaine watched the rhythmic rise and fall of Kurt's chest until his own eyes drifted shut.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you skipped the last chapter, welcome back! And now for some quality brotherly bonding.

"Why, hello Blaine. You don't have Wes with you this time?" The teenager behind the counter smiled warmly as the two Anderson brothers approached. 

"Hello, Miss Stacy," Blaine replied. He didn't bother with answering the question, waiting for the inevitable reaction in 3-2-1 and... 

The girl's gaze locked on Cooper, eyes widening almost comically. She looked like a cartoon. Blaine half expected her pupils to turn into little thudding hearts while mini cupids flew around her head. Cooper smiled back at the blonde, his perfect smile polished and charming. 

"Whaa..Hi, Mr..." The girl admirably tried to get a full sentence out, failing miserably.

Blaine sighed. Some things really never did change. He jabbed Cooper sharply in the ribs with his elbow. His brother turned to regard Blaine with an innocent expression. 

"Ow, Blaine," he responded, rubbing his stomach theatrically. "That wasn't very nice."

"Blaine!" The girl chided sharply. "Behave yourself. You know better than that. I'm sure your master wouldn't appreciate you acting out that way."

"My apologies, Ma'am," Blaine responded instantly, dropping his eyes. 

Cooper's gaze narrowed, the flirty smile disappearing in a blink. "Ring us up for two players, please. And I'd appreciate it if you didn't speak to Blaine anymore." He handed his credit card over to the girl, not bothering to hide his anger.

"Sorry," the clerk muttered, startled by Cooper's abrupt coolness. "I was just trying to help, no big deal." She turned back to Blaine as she handed him the clubs. "Blaine..."

"I believe I already asked you not to talk to my brother," Cooper interrupted, collecting a few colored balls from the bin. 

He ignored the girl's squawk of surprise, gently taking Blaine's arm and guiding him towards the first hole. 

"Was that really necessary?" Blaine murmured, though he was amused by his brother's protectiveness. Copper Anderson, champion of enslaved little brothers and the scourge of harmless teenage retail clerks everywhere. Maybe he should get Kurt to make Cooper a cape or something.

"Oh, probably not,” Cooper admitted. “We could have just walked away, I guess. I’m guessing the words of random sales girls don't exactly keep you up nights. It was kinda fun, though. Did you hear that squeak?" Instead of waiting for an answer, Cooper offered Blaine the little black ball with the figure 8 painted on it.

Blaine's amused smile turned to one of full-blown delight. "You remembered!"

"That you always liked to use the 8-ball? How could I forget? You threw such a fit whenever I would claim it first." Neither brother mentioned how often Cooper deliberately picked the 8-ball for just that reason.

Cooper had managed to work some free time in his schedule, intending to spend a few days at the Hummel residence. Kurt cheerfully welcomed him when he'd called to ask about a visit, asking if Cooper would dedicate some time to try on the outfits Kurt had designed for him during his stay. Kurt had courteously made himself scarce shortly after Cooper’s arrival so the two siblings could spend some quality time together. 

In addition to wanting to visit more with Blaine, Cooper had brought passes to his movie premiere, intending to invite the couple to his opening night. Originally he'd planned on asking his wife to play guardian so Blaine could attend on his own. Cooper still wasn't completely sold on Kurt's role in his little brother's life and wanted to exclude Blaine’s owner as often as he could manage it. Cooper was pretty sure that Kurt would allow Blaine to go to the event even if he wasn't invited himself, provided that Blaine had a safe escort.

Jessi had advised against it, encouraging Cooper to talk it over with Blaine and let him decide if Kurt should be invited as well. It hadn't really occurred to Cooper to consult Blaine on the matter, focused as he was on dealing with Blaine's master. Jessi always was the smart one in their relationship, and he had wisdom enough to listen to her recommendations. And Kurt really was doing everything he could to bridge the gap between the two families. 

And now, here they were, at mini golf on a course where Blaine swore he was welcome to play, with two VIP passes to the opening night of 'Conman’ burning a hole in Cooper's pocket. 

"Do you get out much, Squirt?" Cooper asked as he lined up his shot. "I mean, see the world beyond the house and Hummel's studio?"

"Well, it's hard to see much of anything since Master Kurt generally locks me alone in the basement whenever he goes out of town," Blaine replied blandly, watching Cooper's swung go wide, the little purple golf ball veering sharply off the felt lane and into a bush.

"What the...wait, your house doesn't even have a basement!" Cooper looked mildly outraged as he watched his brother step up for his turn, dropping the ball on the white dot. Blaine shot a grin Cooper's way before turning to swing. The brothers watched as the little 8-ball banked neatly off the course’s polka dotted T-Rex centerpiece to roll neatly into the hole on the first stroke. Cooper groaned. 

Blaine reached down to pull his ball out, noticing out of the corner of his eye when one of the players from a different lane stared with obvious interest when Blaine bent over. He made a brief mental note to stay alert before turning back to his brother to answer Cooper's question.

"I'm one of the premiere runway models for KH Designs, Cooper. I've been all over the place. Beyond the shows where I’m actually working, which span from the US to Paris, I pretty much go everywhere Kurt does. And his job requires him to travel often.”

They moved casually on towards the next hole, this one sporting a water feature across the middle. “We also spend several months each year at the office in New York. If you’re ever over in NYC and need to a place to stay, we have a cute little apartment in Manhattan that you're welcome to use,” Blaine commented as Cooper placed his ball. 

“We've been to London three or four times this year since Kurt is considering opening a boutique there," Blaine added, leaning casually against his club. He realized he was posing, an automatic gesture. Blaine quickly straightened, hoping his admirer hadn’t been watching. 

Cooper raised his hands defensively. "Okay, I get it, I get it. You are well travelled and wise to the ways of the world, whilst I am but a youngling actor, new to life and all its wonders and terrors. Now be quiet while I totally nail this shot." 

Blaine made a lip-zippering gesture while Cooper took careful aim. His ball banked around the hole, rolling neatly into the water trench. 

Blaine laughed. "Yes, you nailed it alright. Like the lid to a coffin." 

They siblings played on for several more holes, exchanging light banter and carefully reminiscing on harmless things from their childhood. Blaine didn't seem to mind talking about most events, though Cooper was careful to avoid any mention of their parents. 

"Everything going okay at home?" Cooper asked casually, marking his '2' on the scorecard. He'd done well on the last several lanes and was slowly catching up. 

"It is now. Of course, there's that one time last week where I thought I'd completely lost Kurt, but other than that..."

"Lost him how?" Cooper demanded, concerned. How could Blaine lose his owner? 

Blaine sighed. "Well, I completely ignored Kurt for weeks until he became convinced I didn't want him anymore. That was awesome." 

Blaine leaned against one of the tall course lights, staring at the ground. He decided he didn’t want to talk about the state Kurt had worked himself into by the time Santana had called him out on his mistake. Blaine considered keeping Kurt’s mind and body in a healthy place the most important job of his life and he’d spectacularly dropped the ball in a way he’d not soon forgive himself for, even if Kurt did. 

Cooper put a companionable arm around him, pleased when Blaine leaned into him, accepting the comfort. Blaine could be odd about touches, Cooper had noticed. Which made perfect sense given his history. That Blaine could be comfortable around him like this meant the world to Cooper.

"Is everything okay now? Between you two?” He asked cautiously. “You seemed in such a good mood when I arrived. But if you think you may benefit from some private time away from him, you know you can come back and stay with me for as long as you'd like, right? I mean, I guess Kurt could refuse to allow you to go, but I could talk with him."

Blaine pushed abruptly away, his face clouding with anger. "I know that you still aren't sure about Kurt, Cooper. And I get that. But you need to understand that I am 100% sure of him. I promise, he would never stop me from leaving if I wanted to go. Trust me on that one. And everything is fine between us, better than fine. We talked and worked it out, and spent a few days...making up." 

Cooper laughed at that. He realized he'd crossed a line and quickly backed off. "One of the best parts of any argument. It’s your shot, little bro." 

Blaine played through to the next hole, seeming a little distracted. Cooper saw his brother’s eyes narrow warily as he watched something behind Cooper's back, pausing before he took a shot. A moment later one of the other players approached.

"Hey, man? How much for 20 minutes with your boy, there? I have $100 on me," the guy asked Cooper, gesturing over at Blaine.

Cooper quickly stepped in front of the slave, blocking him from sight. "There's not enough money in the world," he told the man, his voice low and threatening. He needed to get his little brother away. 

"Blaine, would you please go turn the clubs in and wait at the stand for me? We were just about done, anyway, and I need to have a word with this gentleman."

Blaine frowned. Despite the ‘please’, Cooper had made that sound an awful lot like a command. He took a deep breath, deciding to give his brother the benefit of the doubt.

"We have three holes left yet," he protested mildly. "And the last one is the waterfall, my favorite." 

"Blaine, go wait at the stand." This time the tone brooked no room for argument. Cooper was too busy staring down at the interloper to see Blaine's eye's flash dangerously. Most anyone who knew Blaine would abruptly find somewhere else to be, like the nearest broom closet, if they saw that particular expression cross his face. 

Blaine turned and walked toward the interloper rather than obediently back to the counter. He walked slowly, swaying suggestively as he moved. People routinely paid thousands of dollars to see Blaine glide like that down a catwalk. The man’s eyes widened, mouth going slack, and he automatically reached out a hand to touch. Blaine neatly dodged. He straightened his spine and put on his sexiest runway expression. 

"How much is your house, worth, Sir?" Blaine asked, eyeing the man with indifference bordering on distaste. He’d been instructed in ‘haughty’ from a true master of the art, Quinn Fabray herself. And she’d deemed him her finest student. 

The man looked confused at the question. "Because I assure you," Blaine continued, "I'm insured for far, far more than that. Touch me in any way that may be considered damaging and my master's very expensive lawyers will have it and every other penny to your name. And to answer your question, the current rate on offer for a night of my company is currently in the neighborhood of ten grand. I’d need a calculator to figure out what 20 minutes would equal out to." 

"Whoa, down boy," the guy backed off, raising his arms in defense. "I was just asking. A 'no' would've been just fine." The man glanced over at Cooper. "Might want to put a leash on that one or something. He's a ballsy little thing." The man turned and hastily rejoined his group. 

Blaine dismissed him from his mind, addressing the much bigger problem. "Do not give me commands, Cooper," he whispered fiercely. “Ever. You haven’t earned that right. You don't own my body and obviously cannot be trusted with my obedience." Blaine turned away, collecting their equipment. He was suddenly tired and just wanted to go home. Maybe he should call Kurt to pick him up. 

"Blaine, wait! Please!” Cooper called, trotting to catch up. “I'm sorry, okay? I just wanted to get you away from danger. I was going to handle the guy and catch up with you. Just…calm down and listen to me for a minute." 

Cooper caught up with his brother and grabbed his shoulders, turning him around to face him. Blaine didn't fight the handling. He lowered his eyes respectfully, body becoming still. He was still fiercely angry with Cooper, and while the manhandling didn’t particularly scare him, it wasn’t doing anything to assuage his temper. 

"If you want me to obey you more appropriately, please discuss your concerns with my master. If he so directs, I'll do whatever you tell me to, Sir," Blaine told Cooper neutrally. 

Cooper growled under his breath and pushed against Blaine's shoulders in frustration, more to get his attention than anything else. Slave training 101 dictated that any touch to the shoulders was a direct cue to kneel. Blaine sank to his knees, eyes still glued to the ground. 

Cooper groaned. "For the love of God, PLEASE stop acting like this. I'm sorry I ordered you around, okay? Just…stand up, will you?" 

Blaine rose, but didn't respond otherwise. Cooper, sighed, running a hand through his carefully styled hair, clearly flustered. 

"Look, I'm protective, I know that. If the man had asked you to get him a drink or something, I probably wouldn't have come on so strong. It's just...I can't get past knowing that my baby brother was made into sex toy for pedophilic assholes. Okay? Please, just give me a break. I'm still trying to figure things out here." Cooper watched in relief as Blaine's shoulders loosened and he lost his tense posture. 

"I wasn't trying to order you, I was just being a bullying older brother. I couldn’t save you, before, and I'm trying to make up for that now. Even though we both know that it’s far too late.” He chuckled bitterly at that. “I'll try my best not to do it again," he promised earnestly. "Okay?"

Blaine looked up at him then. He sighed, nodding his understanding. This was going to take some adjusting for both of them. And maybe Blaine wasn’t being completely fair, himself. It had taken Kurt and him months to get on same page and even now they occasionally had problems handling the dynamic. 

"Okay, Coop. I forgive you. Please, just try to not to talk to me like that." 

Cooper pulled him into a hug, relieved to feel Blaine hug back just as hard. "It may be possible that I overreacted just a tad," Blaine admitted.

Cooper laughed at that. "You mean when you went into some rabid slave mode at me or when you verbally handed that guy his ass?"

Blaine blushed. It really hadn't been necessary to act like that. The man had been harmless. He would have gone away easily enough with a word or two. Blaine just hadn't liked Cooper's high-handed behavior. He had enough people in the world ordering him around; Blaine was determined that his brother was not going to be one of them.

"Both, I guess. Can we finish the game?" 

"That eager to lose?" Cooper baited, handing him his club.

"Dream on."

They companionably walked back to the lane they’d last played. Cooper leaned casually against pole while Blaine stepped up to next hole. "Just out of professional curiosity, people aren't really offering Kurt ten thousand dollars to sleep with you for one night, are they?"

"Ah, no." Blaine dropped his ball at the designated spot in front of the slowly spinning windmill feature. 

Cooper nodded. "I didn't think so; that's just ridiculous."

Blaine's smile turned mischievous. "At my last show, a man offered Kurt $15,000."

Cooper started choking, making Blaine laugh. He swung, his ball neatly rocking along the lane. "You okay over there? It’s your shot and loser buys lattes." 

*************

"Wow, Blaine. This may be the best Iced Chai I've ever had." 

Blaine rolled his eyes. He'd only been one point away, dammit. If he'd only gotten his ball into that dumb clown's eye socket...he really hated that clown.

After losing to Cooper, the brothers had moved on to a coffee shop so Blaine could pay up on his forfeit, then they'd walked over to a local park. Cooper plopped onto the nearest bench and immediately started in with the bragging. 

"I'm so glad you like your drink. Now kindly shut up, already," Blaine snapped. Cooper laughed at Blaine's sour tone. The two quieted for a while, watching the ducks in the pond across the way.

"I was 17 years old, by the way," Blaine commented randomly.

"What?"

"The first time I had sex. When the hotel bought me. I was seventeen and I'd been a virgin until one of the managers took me. So I wasn't, like a child or anything. It wasn't pedophilia, like you said earlier." 

Cooper winced, but scooted closer and wrapped an arm over Blaine's shoulders. "Okay. I'm sorry that I said that. I didn't mean to upset you. But if you think that makes what was done to you any better, that would be a very firm 'no.' 

"It doesn't," Blaine agreed. "I just thought you should know. In a different situation, it would have been legal."

"You didn’t want it. It was rape in any situation," Cooper replied bleakly. Blaine sighed and leaned against his brother. He had nothing to say to that.  
************

Blaine brushed his teeth, replaying the events of the day. Overall, hanging out with Cooper had been a lot of fun. Blocking out so much of his past meant he also missed out on the good stuff, a lot of which had involved Cooper. Of course, his older brother had been a jerk a lot of the time back then, too. 

Blaine had completely forgotten all the years Cooper had taken him trick or treating. Or the year his parents decided they were done with the whole 'Santa' business and Cooper had climbed out on the roof outside of Blaine's window and made reindeer noises and banged sleigh bells so his little brother could have one more year with the fantasy. 

But Cooper's aggressive protective streak bothered him. Kitten got that way around him, but she was like that with everyone she cared about, and the occasional random stranger if she decided that they needed saving. And it wasn't as if Kitten didn't order him around, in point of fact she did so on a regular basis. It was just that neither of them had even the slightest expectation that he would actually obey. 

Kurt didn't command him at all. Well, sometimes he did, Blaine had to amend the thought. Usually when they were in bed together, which was always hot. But those times were games, done without agenda and readily discarded if either of them didn't feel like playing anymore. Plus, Kurt had more than earned the right, and not just because he owned Blaine. 

Kurt generally didn't rush to intercede when a person gave Blaine a hard time. Instead, he'd ensured that Blaine had the tools he needed so that he could handle such situations on his own, and he could always come to Kurt if Blaine wanted protection, since Kurt hovered, even if he didn’t outright interfere. In the occasional situations when Kurt did give him an order in public, Blaine trusted that he had a reason.

And then there were the times the nightmares trapped him, times when he needed his master to control him. Kurt's commands grounded him then, made him feel safe and owned. Blaine was aware that Kurt had kind of touched on that with Cooper the first time he’d spent the night at their house, though Blaine knew his brother hadn't really understood. 

Blaine trusted Kurt with his obedience in ways he didn't, couldn’t, with his brother or anyone else. Kurt would never abuse his trust and knew how far to take it in their personal lives, allowing Blaine the space he needed to find comfort in his own way. The slave was a part of Blaine's psyche, and it always would be. Cooper would probably never be able to understand that. And it wasn't fair to expect him to, Blaine decided. The whole master-owner dance was a complicated one that had taken the entirety of their relationship for Kurt and Blaine to figure out. And even so, they still stumbled over each other now and then.

The siblings finished their drinks in peace; companionably watching the waterfowl float around the big pond. As dinnertime approached, they walked back towards the car. Cooper was supposed to take him out for dinner, but Blaine talked him into ordering pizza at home. He found that he wanted to get back to his own territory. Plus, he was eager to see his boyfriend. The day had been mentally exhausting, and he desperately needed to curl up Kurt’s arms for a while.  
*************** 

Dinner took longer than Blaine had expected, and by the time they exchanged 'goodnights' it was nearing bedtime. Blaine was surprised to find that Kurt was in bed first for a change, reading a book. Blaine smiled fondly at the image. Kurt always looked sexy with his reading glasses on. 

"Hey, honey. Did you guys have a good day?" Kurt asked tiredly. He set his book on the nightstand when Blaine crawled in next to him. Blaine turned off the light, snuggling up close and feeling Kurt's arm curl around him, tugging him back against his warm body. Blaine sighed in contentment. 

"It was okay. We had fun, shared a lot of good memories. He beat me at mini-golf, the jerk." Blaine hesitated a second. "But Cooper got kind of possessive at one point. It kinda freaked me out for a little while, to be honest."

"Blaine; he's your big brother; he has every right to be protective. I could tell you so many stories of the things Finn used to do for me in high school. But Cooper doesn't get to possess anything about you. You're mine." Kurt squeezed Blaine tight. 

Kurt's possessive streak, Blaine decided, hit him in all the right ways. "I do," Blaine promised. "I'm all yours." 

Blaine hesitated. "We talked a while ago about adding his name to my slave paperwork as a secondary owner, remember? And I promised you that I'd think about it." Kurt nodded. 

"I get that it would open up options for me, to have two places I could go. But If it's okay with you, I'd like to keep just your name on my paperwork, I think. You're the only one I want to own me." Blaine didn't quite trust Cooper not to snap him up and spirit him away if he felt like that was the safest thing for him. 

"That is entirely up to you," Kurt replied, as Blaine had known he would. "But having said that, would it be horrible of me to add that I'm relieved?" 

"It's not horrible at all," Blaine chuckled. "I'm glad to hear it. After all, that paperwork is the closest we'll ever come to a marriage contract."

"That's...awful, babe."

"No, it's not. It's your name and mine on a legally binding document. How we choose to interpret that is no one's business but our own."

"Does that make you my husband?" Kurt teased lightly. 

"That depends, do you give your husband morning blow jobs?" Blaine asked. 

"Yup. Long, drawn out ones after a sensuous back rub." 

"Then, hell yes. You're definitely my husband," Blaine agreed enthusiastically. Kurt rolled his eyes, smiling at his boyfriend. Sometimes their conversations bordered on ridiculous.

"Maybe you should will me to Burt or something," Blaine offered, briefly returning to the conversation. "Just in case you aren't available and I need someone who has the legal right to claim me." He completely trusted Kurt's father. 

"No way. I'm totally willing you to Kitten." 

Blaine gasped. "And here I thought you liked me." Kurt giggled. 

"Seriously though, don't do that,” Blaine muttered, wiggling closer. “While I'm strangely okay with her having that kind of power over me, she'd never let me live it down." 

"If you insist," Kurt told him, kissing his forehead. "Good night, my love."

"Good night, baby."


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nearly at an end, here. One or two more chapters. This is a long one. Happy Valentine's day! (I hope you find your own romance today, for there's none to be had in this chapter.) 
> 
> *Oh, I've included a guest star from a slightly different 'verse. Because I can. ;-)

Blaine cast a cursory glance around the bright, colorful coffee shop as he settled himself quietly next to Kurt at the little round coffee table. The shop was nearly empty, which wasn't terribly unexpected given that it was 9:30 in the morning on a Tuesday. Most of the morning crowd was long gone and it was still too early for lunch.  


Blaine carried three drinks with him in a cardboard carrier. He placed the first in front of Kurt as was proper, then passed the second over to the man across from them, finally taking up his own medium drip. Blaine had considered not getting himself anything for proprieties sake, but Kurt would have warned him in advance if this would be one of ‘those’ meetings. Also, the coffee smelled amazing and he really needed a caffeine fix. 

The man sitting across from them didn’t seem to particularly care whether Blaine drank with them or not. In fact, other than a quick glance up when his mocha was set before him, the man didn’t seem to notice the slave at all. He shuffled a few papers back and forth, settling for an old school notebook and pen as he glanced over at Kurt, his eyes on oddly familiar, sparkling blue behind a pair of thick, black-rimmed glasses. 

The reporter had sharp, clear blue eyes that radiated intelligence and wore a slightly sardonic smile that Blaine would never admit to Kurt that he found oddly hot. He'd been waiting for them when Kurt and Blaine arrived, the work area in front of him already cluttered with miscellaneous writing materials and a closed laptop. 

He was the latest reporter assigned to do a piece on Kurt Hummel. Nothing new, there. Kurt wasn’t overly fond of interviews, and didn’t give them all that often. Blaine usually accompanied Kurt when he did agree to meet with someone, both because he found it entertaining and as their PR woman had patiently explained (again), it looked good for the successful designer to have one of his models on his arm as eye candy. In this instance, the opportunity was also a chance to get away from the office for a little while, and they were planning on taking the rest of the day for themselves afterwards. 

The reporter didn't look particularly happy to be there, Blaine decided as he subtly looked him over. The lean, youngish man wasn't being rude, exactly, but it was clear as he started in on the routine questions that this wasn't the kind of piece he'd prefer to be working on. If he was that disinterested, maybe this would be a quick one and Kurt would be free sooner than they’d expected.

As the interview moved steadily along, Blaine found that more and more frequently the reporter's eyes would drift his way. It both surprised and discomfited him, as the man had barely acknowledged him earlier. But once the reporter really took a good look, the man couldn't seem to stop looking. Sometimes it seemed to Blaine like the man had to force himself to stay on topic. 

The attention in and of itself wasn’t all that unusual; every aspect of Blaine's appearance had been tailor-made to be attractive and desirable. But the man wasn't looking at him with the typical eye-fucking that implied 'I'm picturing you naked on your knees'. Blaine was well acquainted with that kind of attention, and was comfortable handling it. 

This was different, somehow. Nothing about the man's gaze suggested that he was thinking about sex, if he was even gay at all. Blaine found the interest disconcerting, and was eager for the interview to be finished. He felt a little better knowing that Kurt had also noticed the man’s wandering attention, and deliberately made an effort pull focus back to himself whenever the reporter became overtly distracted.

"Mr. Phillips," Kurt eventually stated sharply, when the reporter's gaze had once again lingered on Blaine too long. He didn’t bother to hide his annoyance; the man was upsetting his boyfriend. Blaine's eyes were glued to his mug and his posture was stiff. He was clearly fighting against the urge to hunch his shoulders protectively. Blaine’s obvious discomfort was nearly enough for Kurt to walk out of the interview right then, and he would do so if the reporter kept it up. 

"My understanding was that we were meeting so that you could interview me, not ogle my slave,” Kurt told the man coldly. “I'm well aware that he's a beauty, but if we could complete your questionnaire, I'd appreciate it. I have a busy schedule today.” 

Perhaps he should ask Blaine to wait outside with the car until he was done. Kurt didn't want Blaine out of his sight; they were far from the relative safety of their neighborhood. But if this continued much longer, he’d need to get Blaine away. Or they could both just leave. That last option was beginning to sound more and more appealing. 

The reporter drew himself up abruptly at Kurt's words, clearly not realizing what he'd been doing. He took in Blaine's state, before turning his full attention back to Kurt. 

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you. Or him." He glanced down at his notebook, clearly working out what he wanted to say next. 

"I just...I know you don't give many interviews, Mr. Hummel, and it's flattering that you were willing to meet with me. But as interesting as your rapid rise in the fashion industry is, this honestly isn’t the kind of subject I typically write on. I'm an investigative journalist, fashion has no appeal for me." He didn't add, 'and if I didn't have to eat, I'd never have accepted this job, rare opportunity or not'.

"Clearly," Kurt murmured wryly, eyes the reporter's plain plaid shirt and worn jeans. The man chose to ignore the statement, turning his attention back to Blaine.

"Now, the slave on the other hand," the man said, pointing his pen Blaine's direction. "He has my spidey senses tingling." Pitching his voice to be authoritative, he stared hard at Blaine. "What's your designation, boy?" 

"A0919," Blaine replied automatically. He silently cursed himself as soon as he’d spoken. He didn't have to answer, and it was none of the man's business. Damn conditioning. 

"Speak to him again and this interview is over," Kurt told the reporter, warning in his tone, his blue grey eyes turning stormy in anger. 

"A ZERO 9?" The reporter ignored Kurt. Carson had a lifetime's worth of experience dealing with threats, and Hummel wasn't even a blip on his radar. "You're a zero generation? Is that even legal anymore? Do you know how old were you when you were acquired? Where are you from? Do you remember your real name?" Carson threw out the questions rapid fire, awaiting Blaine’s reaction as much as his reply. 

The slave didn't answer. 

Blaine's silence didn't bother Carson in the least. The narrowing of the slave's eyes and the way he stiffened his posture told the reporter volumes. Blaine did remember. Oh, this had potential. Carson hadn’t missed how the boy turned to his master for support as he’d become more nervous. 

Slaves curled in on themselves when cornered, trying to become as small and submissive as they could make their bodies. This one stayed upright. Nervous, sure, but not really afraid. And he’d looked to owner when he’d started to get anxious. Carson watched as Hummel leaned forward, subtly placing his body more directly into Carson's line of site. He wasn’t trying to get attention, Carson thought, he was shielding the slave. Even more interesting. 

"Enough!" Kurt announced. He was done with this man. "Blaine, go wait by the car, I'll be along in a minute." Blaine rose to obey, looking relieved at the order. 

Carson stood quickly, blocking the slave's path. "Look, Blaine. It's obvious to me that you have quite a story. One that might need telling. And that's what I do. I bring the truth to light, even when it's uncomfortable or unpopular.” Especially when it was uncomfortable. Carson had no shortage of enemies, not that he particularly cared. 

“Just think about it, will you?” He cajoled. Carter paused a second. “And don't bother pretending you need your master's permission. I think that we both know that's not the case." Blaine cocked his head, clearly weighing Carson's words in his head. 

Carson extracted out one of his cards from a back pocket, extending it to the slave. "My phone and email are on the card. Call me if you want to talk." Carson's suspicions about the slave's status were confirmed when Blaine reached out and took the card without turning to get Kurt's approval first. Pocketing the card, he quickly stepped around Carson and headed for the parking lot.

Hummel got into his space, looking much more forbidding then Carson would have thought possible for the angel-faced young man. "That is more than enough from you, Mr. Phillips. Blaine has taken more crap in his life than anyone ever should and he's finally, finally, in a good place. Leave him be. You should have more than enough information for your article. If you have any other questions about KH Designs, you can email me."

"I won’t approach him again, since you insist,” Carson promised. “But don't you think that the decision should be up to Blaine?" He added, raising an eyebrow.

Kurt sighed, glancing worriedly out towards the parking lot. He left without answering. 

As the designer walked away, Carson watched out the shop window as the pair climbed into a SUV. His eyes gleamed with the feverish dedication that made him the crackerjack freelance reporter that he was. He needed to get back to his office so he could start researching. A0919. It was a start.  
***************

Kurt walked into his office, finding Blaine casually sitting on one of the cozy client chairs, staring distantly at the far wall as he absently twirled something in his fingers. As he closed the distance between them, Kurt saw that it was the battered card that the annoying reporter had given Blaine after the interview from last week.

"You're quiet," Kurt commented, pressing a soft kiss to Blaine's cheek as he plopped down beside him. 

"Yeah, sorry." Blaine pulled himself back to the present and the card disappeared into a pocket. "I've just been thinking." Blaine dredged up an honest smile for his boyfriend. He needed to stop thinking about freaking Carson Phillips and focus instead on the beautiful man who'd come to take him out to dinner.

Kurt leaned forward and pulled him into a hug. "Whatever you decide, sweetie, I have your back." 

Blaine sighed, hugging back and absorbing his lover's warmth and closeness. "I know."  
**************

Carson was frustrated. More than frustrated, he was getting angry. He put his feet up on the desk of his cramped little office, glaring balefully at the little colored cube casually gliding around the wide screen of his laptop. This wasn't supposed to haven been so difficult a task. But after a solid week of research, he had almost nothing on that zero-gen slave of Hummel's. So far, the most relevant information he'd managed to dig up was that that the boy had come from the Omaha Rookery and was the personal property of Kurt Hummel, rather than the KH Designs business. 

The only other information he had managed to dig up on Blaine was that the slave was insured for great gobs of money, and had been issued a gladiatorial license. Well, Carson supposed that last part was nice to know. If he decided to piss the slave off, or Blaine's owner, for that matter, it was good to be aware that he stood a very real chance of getting creamed. 

Carson had also learned more than he ever thought he’d need to about Gladiatorial licenses. Getting those things was exceedingly difficult. The thousand or so people in the country who were registered to issue a license hoarded the things like gold. Being licensed meant that the slave was a trained fighter and had far greater legal leeway if he did end up causing injury to a citizen. And Blaine was allowed to inflict a great deal of injury if he perceived danger to his master. All of which was interesting, well deserving of investigation, and contributed absolutely nothing towards discerning the boy's history. If he didn't know otherwise, Carson would be sure that Blaine had been bred in that rookery. 

Not that he was going to quit, of course. Carson Phillips never quit. But perhaps it was time to go back to the source and push a little, if Hummel would even consent to Blaine talking with him, anyway. He may have burned that bridge. Eh. He could ask. 

A knock on Carson’s office door made him jump. Carson's little hole of an office, sadly on the exact opposite end of the country than where he'd planned to end up after graduation from Northwestern State, wasn't exactly public. He didn't normally get visitors unless he had planned meetings. It was rare enough that Carson realized he hadn’t locked the door. 

Before he could rise to answer, the door popped open and Prince Charming made flesh walked in. Well, then. 

"Hello," the man greeted politely, flashing Carson a Hollywood ready smile. Which of course, was where Cooper Anderson belonged. 

"Hello Mr. Anderson, welcome to my hovel. Please, have a seat." Carson cleared some files out a chair for the actor, intrigued by the visit. "What can I do for you? And can I briefly say that 'Chasing Neal' was brilliant? I’ve all but memorized it." 

Cooper took the offered seat. "Thank you, so much. And, please, call me Cooper. Not many have seen that film, though it had been a pleasure to shoot."

"Plenty have seen it,” Carson disagreed. “Which wouldn't be the case if you hadn't shored up the lead's weak spots. Rough casting, there." 

"Tim actually did really well. It was a tough character to play." Cooper settled into the rickety chair, stretching his legs comfortably in front of him. 

Carson snorted, but let the matter drop. "What brings you to my little pit, Cooper?" As far as Carson knew, he hadn’t done anything that may have pissed off this particular actor. 

Cooper leaned back a bit, crossing his hands on his lap. "I've heard a rumor that you're investigating a potential story about a slave." 

Huh. Whatever Carson had been expecting, it wasn't that. "I am, indeed. And I’m extremely curious about how you would know that."

"I have a...special relationship with Kurt Hummel. He designs all my best suits, for one thing. And his Blaine is very dear to me." 

Carson raised an eyebrow at that. If Hummel allowed a client to use his boy the way Carson thought that Cooper was alluding to, then he had completely misread the situation. That sat poorly with him; Carson rarely made mistakes like that. "If you are asking me to let it go, that's really not..."

"What are you going to do with this story?" Cooper interrupted. "Say you find out that there is something, maybe something big, and you get all the facts you're looking for. Then what? I'm familiar with your work, by the way, and I know it's solid."

"Thank you, I take what I do very seriously. To answer your question, if I actually find something, I'll finish my piece, and try to talk Blaine into allowing me to publish it."

"What about Hummel? And what if Blaine’s answer is 'no'?" Cooper pressed.

It was actually something Carson had spent some time considering. He needed to get a firm feel for who really mattered to him, permission-wise. The legalities were less concerning to him than his personal integrity. 

"If Hummel said 'no', that wouldn't necessarily stop me,” Carson answered slowly. “But without Blaine's agreement, I'd bury the whole thing. If there's a story worth reporting, it means something terrible happened to someone who didn't deserve it, and I'm not going to heap any potential fallout on a victim." 

"Good to know,” Cooper agreed, smiling. “Your instincts are sound, which I'm sure you know. There is a story there." 

Carson leaned forward eagerly. "I take it you have something for me, then?"

Cooper stood and handed over a card. "This is the number to a PI. She has some information you can use. Plan on bribing her. She likes good coffee." Carson accepted the card, a little disappointed. He'd really been hoping for something more concrete. And he didn't love PI's, preferring to do his own research.

"What were you hoping for?" Cooper asked curiously, seeing the reporter's lackluster response.

"Oh, I dunno. A name, address, maybe a school if he ever even attended one. A social security number would be great." Carson grinned.

Cooper elegantly raised one perfectly manicured eyebrow. "Do you think an address would be all that useful? People do move, you know. Well, I didn't. I lived in the house where I was born right up until I moved out to Hollywood." He paused, thinking. "Okay, how about this. I can tell you that Blaine's last name if you want?”

Cooper visibly perked up at that, making Cooper chuckle. "Yes, please," the reporter replied eagerly.

“It was ‘Anderson’, once upon a time."

Carson slunk on his desk dejectedly. "Fantastic. That's only about a fifth of the population of the country. Well, it could be worse. At least it's not 'Smith,” he grinned up at Cooper, who’d been laughing softly for some reason.

"Come on, now,” Cooper chided gently. “It's not as impossible as all that. I'm certain someone as clever as yourself can follow a trail from there." The actor was still smiling that grin that made Carson feel like he was missing something obvious. 

"I appreciate the vote of confidence,” he said politely. “And you're right, having a name, even an incredibly common one, helps a lot. I'm sorry for being an unappreciative jerk. Let me see you out." Carson rose to open the door for the actor. He took Cooper's hand, shaking politely.

"It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Phillips," Cooper told him, his stunning blue eyes twinkling merrily.

"And you as well, Mr. Anders..." Carson froze. No. Fucking. Way. Cooper winked, quietly closing the door behind him. The stasis landed for all of 3 seconds before Carson threw himself into his chair and began frantically typing. Blaine the slave had virtually nothing to track; his slave number was a dead end. 

Cooper Anderson, rising star, however...Carson clicked over to IMDB. It was all right there, Cooper's age, town of origin, and yes, even where he went to high school. And if he'd been in the same house his whole life, anyone else in that house, say, a sibling for example, would most likely have attended the same school. 

Schools were one of Carson’s favorite places for research; they could provide a wealth of information about a person if you dug a little. And it was nearly impossible to completely erase someone who’d attended for any length of time. Schools tended to have extensive records, yearbooks, publicized team events, and of course, school papers. Carson opened a second tab to book a plane ticket to Ohio.  
**************

"Kurt?" Blaine poked his head around the door to Kurt's office, finding it empty. That was fine, he'd be along eventually. Blaine settled himself behind the desk, in Kurt’s super comfy chair and started randomly moving things around on the desk top. His lover was just compulsive enough that the relocation would annoy the crap out of him. 

"Hey, Blaine," Dani called, walking into the office. "This came for you." She flashed a quick grin at him, noticing what he’d been up to with Kurt’s stuff, and handed him a thick manila envelope before quickly trotting back to her station and the ringing phone. 

Blaine opened the envelope, unceremoniously dumping its contents onto the desk. He’d photographed a few summer dresses last week and had been expecting the preliminary thumbnails any time now. Blaine stared down at the envelopes contents. While there were a number of photos, he hadn't taken any of them. 

They were all of him.

Blaine scooted the images around, straightening the little photos so he could see them clearly. He stared at a much younger, painfully innocent version of himself grinning for all he was worth at the camera as he stood in front of some risers. There were other images of him actually performing. One showed him playing the piano, his gaze focused intently on the keys. There were even a few head shots from his junior high yearbook, as well as club photos with other kids from his class. Most of the images were from the year before he'd been taken. There were a few high school photos included in the lot, though he hadn't been a freshman long. Those had to have been taken within months of his disappearance. 

And then there were the other photos. Blaine had seen his slave shots before. It was the standard trifecta: the full frontal, side, and rear nude shots of the merchandise on offer were the norm in most professional advertising catalogs. Blaine had seen them, but it had been a very long time ago. He looked...blank in those images. He was definitely skinnier then he'd been in the school shots, the hint of baby fat around his features had faded, and that carefree joy was completely absent. 

He reached out a shaky hand to touch one of the other photos in the pile. It was a shot from the hotel. There were actually quite a few of them. Photos of Blaine standing in the skin-tight black uniform, or on his knees, his face shot for the service menu, there were even one or two of him actively servicing clients. He looked so jaded, his eyes wary, his skin pale bordering on sallow, and he was so painfully thin. 

Blaine fished around the pile of photos. Without really thinking about it, he sorted the pictures in piles, moving the slave photos far away from his school ones, subconsciously wanting to keep the dark images from tainting his innocent younger self.

A number of his runway shots had also been included. Those images were night and day from his hotel pics. They clearly reflected what love, care, and a fully stocked kitchen had done for Blaine. He looked strong, sexy and beautiful as he posed before a cheering crowd. Blaine had seen more stills of himself then he could count, but never in direct comparison with what he’d been reduced to in his former function.

God, what had Kurt ever seen in him? Blaine lifted one of the hotel shots up. The broken, terrified sex slave staring hollowly back at him bore no resemblance to the confident, healthy and happy man he was now. It awed him that Kurt had looked at that mess of a boy and considered anything about him worth bothering with. 

The pictures weren't the only things in the envelope. A stack of neatly typed pages bearing his name at the top in a messy, handwritten scrawl caught Blaine's attention. He sorted through the array of paperwork. Besides the typed papers, there was a copy of his slave titling, as well as an old, faded IRS contract formally consigning him as government property in exchange for release from any and all debts and legal charges pending for James and Evelyn Anderson. His parent's signatures filled the two lines at the bottom. With shaky hands, Blaine picked up the article and began to read. 

When Kurt found him a good hour later, Blaine was curled into a tiny ball in Kurt's chair, staring blankly at the wall with dried tear tracks on his face.

"Blaine? Honey?" 

When Blaine didn't respond Kurt cursed softly, then stepped out just long enough to tell Dani to clear his schedule for the day before quickly returning to collect his boyfriend. He tugged firmly on Blaine's arm. "Come with me now, Blaine," he ordered softly. 

Kurt had no idea what had set his boyfriend off this time, but after years of handling a traumatized Blaine, Kurt knew what was needed to help him find his way back. First thing, he needed to get the slave to the safety of their home. 

Moving by rote, Blaine rose to follow Kurt's command. He was nearly out of the room before he suddenly tugged away from Kurt's grip and spun back to the desk, haphazardly loading a bunch of papers into a large envelope. Clutching the thing against his chest, Blaine hurried back to Kurt’s side, silently following his owner on the short walk to the house.

A little color had come back to Blaine’s face, Kurt noticed with relief. He casually chatted to Blaine as they walked, not really expecting interaction, just prattling on about his day, trying to reorient his lover to the here and now. Once he had them in their bedroom, he had Blaine strip out of the suit, urging him to change into a pair of lounging jammies. 

After a little thought, Kurt decided to have Blaine sit with him on the living room couch for a while rather than put him to bed so early. He was still blindly following commands, which Kurt expected. It was the slave's default behavior for when Blaine’s mind struggled to process whatever had set him back. Kurt made them some hot chocolate, then curled up on the sofa with Blaine tucked up against him and turned the TV on.

"I'm right here, my love," Kurt murmured softly, running his fingers through Blaine's soft curls. "I have you, you’re safe. Take as long as you need. Come back to me when you're ready." Blaine didn't answer, but he reached his arms around Kurt's waist and tucked himself in close. The act was heartening. It was much more than Kurt had expected so soon.  
*****

Blaine woke to a pitch-black living room, snuggled up against a softly snoring Kurt. Why were they on the couch? Then he remembered. His eyes immediately darted to the coffee table, relieve to see the envelope exactly where he’d dropped it. It seemed very important to Blaine that it stay close.

Blaine extracted himself from Kurt’s arms and slowly stood, stretching out the kinks from too long a time spent curled up. He gently pushed a mostly asleep Kurt down the hall to their bedroom, the envelope firmly clutched in one hand. Blaine carefully set it on his nightstand, then pulled down the bed sheets. Kurt crawled in and was snoring again by the time his head hit the pillow. Chuckling softly, Blaine curled up next to his lover, falling quickly back to sleep.

The alarm clock blared to life, signaling the too-soon arrival of morning. Blaine quickly rolled over and turned it off before Kurt could blindly swat at the thing and potentially knock it to the floor behind the nightstand. Again. 

Blaine rose and silently left to make coffee. He returned to see Kurt sitting up in bed, regarding him cautiously. Blaine handed him the coffee and leaned in for a quick kiss. Before Kurt could say anything, he plopped down onto the bed next to him. "Sorry I flaked out on you," he apologized, nudging Kurt gently with a shoulder.

"Don't even, hun. This wasn't even a bad one. You were responding a little before we even fell asleep." Kurt hesitated. "Any idea what in particular might have set it off?" Sometimes there were reasons, maybe a date or an image, or even some random thing could rock him. Blaine didn't always know, himself. It helped when he could talk about it through, though. 

Blaine nodded slowly. He reached over for the envelope he'd been clinging to the day before and handed it over. "Yeah. Yeah, I know. Look at this." 

"Oh my god," Kurt gasped softly as he dumped out the photos. He had barely made it through the pictures before he was tearing up. By the time Kurt was done with the article his eyes were blazing. Anger, sadness, and above all love chased each other across his features, reflecting the internal battle waging inside.

"There was a little handwritten note in there from Carson Phillips," Blaine told him. He'd sat quietly, hugging his knees while Kurt read. "The note said that it's up to me. If I don't want him to, he won't publish it. His card is in there and he asked me to call him with a decision."

"Do you know what you want to do?" Kurt asked.

"Uh, yeah. I think I do, anyway. What...I mean, do you have a preference? This will probably affect you. Maybe even more than me."

Kurt shrugged. "I think it's not that simple. It's your story, your life. If you want to call him right now, you know I'll support you. But maybe, if you're still on the fence, we could send a copy to Cooper and my parents? This has the potential to affect the people around us." 

Of course they needed to do that. Blaine still wasn't thinking clearly. There weren't any specific names mentioned besides his, but it wouldn't be that hard for people to figure it out with a quick Google search. 

Maybe he should just let it go, happy endings all around. But if that IRS lady had gone through all that effort to acquire him, there had to be a market for that sort of thing. The type of people who had wanted him would be looking for others, other kids who were technically slaves, but not really. Kids who would know and understand what it meant to be used like that in ways later generation slaves just didn’t think. Maybe this article could stop what happened to him from happening again. 

"Let's talk to our families," Blaine decided. "See what they say. But if...if they're willing, I think want to let him publish it."

"Of course you do, you brave idiot," Kurt told him fondly. "But maybe we can wait on making those phone calls until after a shower..." Kurt wasn’t up for sex, not after what he’d just seen, but reconnecting with his lover skin to skin sounded perfect. 

Blaine smiled softly, squeezing his shoulder. He knew the kind of intimacy that kurt was after. Kurt needed to be able to hold Blaine close, see that he really wasn’t that person anymore, that he was healthy and whole and safe. Blaine could do that. Kurt wasn’t the only one who knew how to handle a troubled boyfriend. 

"Sounds like a plan.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, last one. And an epilogue, naturally. Thanks, everyone! 
> 
> **warning for very brief mention of graphic non-con**

"You don't say?" Cooper asked, his bright eyes wide and innocent as he regarded his freshly scrubbed brother from across the marble topped breakfast bar. He took a deep drink from his coffee cup.

Blaine had gotten his workout finished early, showered and was just starting breakfast when Cooper emerged from the guest room he’d been occupying...wearing Blaine’s favorite robe. The siblings settled in the kitchen, Cooper landing on one of the padded stools at the breakfast bar to watch while Blaine casually put together breakfast items for them. Coffee and creamers had already left out by Kurt who had gone to work some time ago. 

"A reporter, huh?" Cooper inquired curiously.

The entirety of Clan Cooper had spent the night at the house so they could see Uncle Blaine and, more importantly, Uncle Blaine's massive pool. Jessi and the kids left earlier that morning to catch a play date with some neighbors before returning home, leaving the siblings to have a late breakfast privately. 

The family had been visiting regularly until the events from Cooper's opening night party caused some friction. Cooper had been waiting for a while for Blaine to forgive him. Blaine had called to invite them over a few days ago, and Cooper promptly agreed. It was the first time in a while that he'd felt welcome spending time with his brother since their argument.  
*** 

The movie premier had gone famously for Cooper, but not so much for his little brother. The film was amazing, Blaine reluctantly admitted to a bouncing Cooper as the man clutched at his arm excitedly. Cooper insisted that both Kurt and Blaine stay for the after party and not wanting to disappoint Cooper on his big night, Blaine had reluctantly agreed. 

Blaine managed to keep himself together for all of half an hour before getting anxious. The place was loud and incredibly crowded. He was used such things, but he typically had a role to play as well as a guardian when he was at events like these for Kurt. Feeling his tension building, Blaine dropped back into the safe anonymity of slave mannerisms. 

The role of pretty arm-candy to Kurt's 'successful designer' persona was familiar, safe, and put Kurt firmly in charge of Blaine’s care. Kurt responded to Blaine's cues with practiced ease, transitioning from friend and lover to possessive owner without skipping a beat. Blaine had settled down after that, smiling politely, gaze down, maintaining a gentle hold on Kurt's arm as his owner wandered around the room. 

The peace lasted until Cooper caught up with them. Cooper became visibly angry about Blaine acting like a slave and yelled at Kurt, which resulted in a subdued Blaine being left with Jessi while Kurt hauled Cooper away, furiously whispering to the actor in private. 

Blaine felt miserable for disappointing his older brother and being too weak to be able to maintain the behaviors Cooper had wanted from him. Blaine hunched in on himself, dropping back a step behind Jessi in perfect 'waiting for orders' position. Blaine felt like he'd misbehaved and made people angry with him. He couldn't stop the gut churning fear and nausea building within him for being such a failure. A good brother should be stronger than this. Cooper deserved better, and so did Kurt. 

But if Kurt was disappointed in him, he didn't show it when he returned a few minutes later. He thanked Jessi and tugged Blaine away, sending him over to the open bar to bring him a drink, then settled them both against a wall to people watch. 

Once Blaine had settled down, Kurt gently pulled the slave against his body, whispering in his ear how gorgeous he was, how lucky Kurt was to have the most amazing, desirable man at the party with him. Kurt stared daggers at anyone who walked too close to them, feeling Blaine gradually relax against him in response to the soft reassurances and dominant behavior. 

As Blaine cooled down, Kurt's words warmed up, becoming dirtier, cataloging exactly what he was going to do to Blaine when they got home, how'd he slowly unwrap him like the perfect present he was, nipping and licking his way down to his prize. 

Blaine responded to the approval and heated words, smiling and returning the heated gaze. Kurt’s presence, and a healthy dose of lust, allowed Blaine to emerge from the destructive mindset, once again comfortable in his place at Kurt’s side. He caught Cooper staring across the room at him, apology in his eyes. Blaine glared at his older brother, no longer concerned about what Cooper thought of him and angry that Cooper had come down on him like that, and made him feel like...less. He deliberately turned further into Kurt, who caught the exchange and tugged Blaine away to the dance floor. 

Once there, locked chest to chest, Blaine picked up where Kurt had left off, whispering sweet obscenities in his lover’s ear as he nibbled at the soft flesh, reveling in the catch to Kurt's breath and the way his boyfriend’s fingers clutched and scratched against his back. 

Blaine had this; he could do this, with the amazing, beautiful man that he was lucky enough to claim as his. Kurt believed he was special, and he wasn't disappointed in Blaine at all. Even if he was having some trouble with the damn party. 

Blaine glanced around as Kurt moaned into his shoulder, seeing several admiring, and jealous, glances sent their way. Many of the people at the party had recognized him on Kurt's arm, and had offered the usual sickeningly high amounts of money to borrow the pretty slave. 

It was well known in their circle that the famous creator of Hummel Designs never rented out his slave models and it had become something of a game in the community to see what price would finally break down Kurt's resolve. The ridiculous offers were amusing and somewhat of an ego boost, but only because Blaine knew with all his soul that Kurt valued him far beyond mere money. They danced for a few more songs before mutually deciding to head home where they created a much better ending to their night. 

Cooper, of course, had called to talk to Blaine and apologize the next day. Blaine coolly forgave him, then ignored most of his calls and texts for a while, not really wanting to deal with his brother. He'd finally broken the distance when a plain manila envelope on Kurt's desk threatened to yet again rock Blaine's world. Suddenly, dumb games and one unfortunate party didn't seem important.  
**

"A reporter, huh?" 

"Yeah. He was supposed to be doing a piece on Kurt, but he just kept staring at me. Next thing I know he's handing me his business card," Blaine continued, setting breakfast out on the bar and watching his older sibling out of the corner of his eye warily. Cooper looked...smug. While it was hardly an unusual expression for the narcissist, it generally meant Blaine was going to have the urge to smack his brother in the face with a trout in the very near future. 

"So, did he get anywhere? I mean, it took me years to track you down and I already knew all about you." Cooper asked casually. Too casually, Blaine decided.

"Yeah, actually, he did. He had pictures of me from way back. Remember when I did that Heart cover in Fifth grade? He found pics of that." 

"Oh yeah, I remember that," Cooper smiled fondly and he reached across the bar to steal Blaine's bacon. Blaine rolled his eyes but added more to his plate. "Your vocals were decent, but the choreography was basic and you ran a half beat behind for the first third of the song." Blaine sighed dramatically, but didn't bother responding to the jibe. "Any idea how he found so much so quickly?" Cooper asked easily. 

"Well, he is an investigative reporter, I guess he has ways." Blaine picked at his eggs with a fork, a thought worming its way into his mind. 

Blaine narrowed his eyes as he regarded his brother. "He actually had a lot of photos; school pics, both junior and high school, and some...later shots." 

Cooper froze, his coffee cup halfway to his mouth. "Like, from after Kurt bought you? Model stuff?"

"Well, that too, of course. My modeling work is everywhere. I meant just out of the rookery stuff. You know, from the hotel? There were shots with the uniform and a few of me actually working." Cooper swallowed, paling slightly. 

"Wow. That's...disquieting. But he hasn’t done anything yet, right?" 

Blaine snorted. "Of course not. That was the deal you made with Carson when you told him about me, right?"

Cooper's eyes widened. "He told you about that?"

"Nope. You did, just now." Blaine pushed his plate away angrily. He had no interest in eating anymore. "What, you don't think I've been through enough? Or have you still not realized that I can make my own decisions? It's a rare privilege for a slave, I know. But it's one I've been lucky enough to have had for several years now, something I will never take for granted, and I'm getting really tired of you stomping all over it!" 

Blaine shook his head. "How did you even know about the article and Carson, anyway?" As quickly as he'd asked, Blaine knew. The answer was obvious. Blaine dropped his head into his hands, trying to absorb this new information. "Kurt told you." 

"Easy, big guy. It wasn't like that," Cooper countered immediately, coming around to wrap an arm over his shoulder. Blaine didn't seem to notice. "Kurt gave me a courtesy call to let me know a reporter was snooping around you so I'd be prepared. He told me the guy's name and description so I could be ready and warn Jessi just in case he did manage to cross his 'I's and dot his 'T's enough to track me down. Any subsequent conversations I may or may not have had after that were all on me." 

Blaine's whole body sagged with relief. Cooper being high-handed and making major decisions on his behalf was incredibly annoying but not unexpected. The idea that Kurt had gone behind his back had really hurt. But there was the kids to think about, and Kurt extending a cautionary warning to the family was perfectly understandable. Kurt did big picture better than Blaine, who was usually the stronger partner in the 'here and now' aspect of their lives, keeping Kurt firmly grounded when he was overworking himself and stressing over impending jobs. 

Blaine grabbed the plates and began cleaning, lost in thought. Cooper came up next to him to help and Blaine absently worked around him. Cooper was just relieved he hadn't been kicked out of the room and resolved to wait until his brother had sorted things out in his head a little. He'd interfered more than enough for the time being. After clean up was done, Blaine wandered outside to a shady area near the pool, sitting down on a beach chair, his brother settling cautiously next to him. 

"So, what did you tell him?" Blaine asked after a moment.

Cooper raised an eyebrow. "Not much. I mentioned that I had a vested interest in your welfare. And I told him our last name. As you guessed, he promised me he wouldn't publish anything without your permission. He didn't much seem to care what Kurt wanted, but I figured you two could work that out yourselves." 

Blaine nodded slowly. "Kurt told me he'd support either decision. He was completely unsurprised to hear I wanted to go ahead with It." 

"So, you decided, then?" Cooper asked, leaning forward intently.

"Probably, yeah. I would like it if you’d read the article before you told me what your vote is. I sent a copy of everything to Kurt's family last week. I'll call them later and see what they want. Kurt's dad did a stint in congress, and I'd hate to cause him any trouble." 

Blaine got up, disappearing into the house briefly before returning long enough to hand a battered envelope to Cooper. He then went back inside, allowing Cooper to read in peace. Blaine wandered into the living room and considered playing something on the baby grand. Then he realized what he really wanted and pulled out his cell phone, dialing Kurt.

"Well, aren't you a sound for sore ears? What's up, babe?" Kurt answered on the first ring, his tone warm and cheerful. 

Blaine wiped at his suddenly teary eyes. God he loved that man. Stress and anger melted away, replaced by a slightly goofy smile as Blaine dropped onto the couch. 

"First of all, that was ridiculous. And not much is going on at the moment. Cooper and I just finished breakfast. And he ratted me out to that reporter, by the way. Cooer all but sent an engraved announcement that we were related. That's how Carson figured everything out so quickly. He didn't need to track me, just Cooper." 

"Son of a...Blaine, I told Cooper about Phillips. I'm so sorry. I've just dealt with stalker reporters before and if the guy ever did connect the dots there's every chance he'd go after Cooper and I was worried about the kids. If Carson came close, they'd have to grow up without a mom when Jessi went to jail for killing him." 

Blaine laughed. "No, it's fine. That was smart of you and I don't mind. Neither of us could have guessed that Cooper would decided to run off and bare all." 

"Sooo, you two are okay, then?"

Blaine shrugged. "As okay as we ever are, I guess. He is what he is. At least I can take comfort in his consistency. He was a bullying know-it-all when we were kids and now that we're adults he still is. He's worth it, mostly. He's family." And how weird was it that Blaine could say that at this point in his life? He smiled faintly. "Anyway, I left him out back with the original information from Carson. He's reading the article now." 

"Do you want me to come home?" Kurt asked. Blaine shook his head before remembering Kurt wouldn't see it.

"No, I'm okay. You have a full schedule today. But thank you for asking, it means a lot." 

Kurt took him at his word. "Alright. Just promise me you'll let me know if you change you mind? Or you can come up here. Wes is stuck in his office and I'm sure he would love a chance to escape. Distracting you from your troubles would make his day." 

Blaine chuckled at that. "I'm sure it would. I'll consider it if Cooper gets insufferable." Blaine smiled fondly. He and Wes were overdue to hang out. He'd have to rectify that in the near future. 

"So...,” Blaine began. “What are you wearing?" Kurt started laughing, his happy, musical voice warming Blaine's heart.  
***  
Cooper leaned against the doorframe, watching his brother lounge on the couch. Blaine laughed and flirted lightly as he chatted on his phone, presumably talking with Kurt. He looked relaxed and content, resting on his belly, knees bent, swaying his bare feet idly above him as he talked. It awed Cooper just how tough his little brother was. 

After reading all that Blaine had endured, and Carson hadn’t pulled a single punch, Cooper painstakingly went through each painful picture. If Blaine had lived it, the absolute least he could do was bear witness. 

The ones from their childhood made him smile a little, remembering the cheerful little ball of kinetic energy that had been young Blaine. He'd shown so much talent so early in life. Cooper had been a tad jealous, okay, maybe more than a tad, and he might have overcompensated with his not-quite-constructive criticism. But he truly had loved his little brother, and wanted the best for him. 

Then of course, there were the later photos. Cooper didn't know if he'd ever be able to get those horrifying pictures out of his mind. It was all right there, in graphic detail, exactly what Blaine's purpose had been at the hotel, revealing him in various stages of undress, usually kneeling, crouched next to some obviously eager stranger. 

He looked gaunt in those photos, curled into a tiny ball at his renter's feet. Cooper thought it couldn’t get much more repulsive. And then he came to the last photo. Blaine was naked, bent over a bed, hands bound behind his back with a belt, and legs splayed uncomfortably wide. Someone's hand tugged at one reddened ass cheek to spread him open for the camera. Blaine's head rested sideways on the bed, turned so that you could see the upturned part of his face. He wore a resigned expression, empty eyed as he waited for whatever was about to be done to him. And that was the point when Cooper and his breakfast had parted ways. 

The rest of the photos had been taken after he'd been bought from the hotel, and clearly showed the results of Kurt's careful handling. Cooper had loaded the entire mess back into its envelope and left in search of his brother.

Cooper realized he owed Kurt a serious apology. Being aware in the abstract of what had happened to Blaine and seeing actual evidence of it were two very different things. Blaine had to have been a mess by the time Kurt found him. It was a wonder there was anything left to salvage. 

Part of that was a testament to Blaine's endurance, and being brave enough to risk something as potentially destructive as trust. But Kurt was, well he was Kurt. Beautiful outside and in, with his angelic face and expressive blue eyes. It was no wonder Blaine was willing to risk himself for a chance at happiness. Kurt had earned Blaine's trust, probably many times over, Cooper imagined, before Blaine was anything like the strong, confident person Cooper had finally found. 

Not to mention, dangerous. Cooper frequently forgot that under the pretty clothes and gym-bunny muscle there lurked a skilled fighter. He imagined it must have been therapeutic, learning how to fight. Even if Blaine wasn't supposed to hurt anyone in his own defense, or even wanted to, it probably felt good knowing that he was capable of wrecking the people who might hurt him. 

After seeing the hotel photos, Cooper wasn't sure he could have brought Blaine back on his own. He couldn't imagine the time, faith, and patience required on both men's parts to get through it. Cooper was never going to judge Kurt again for how he handled Blaine. Getting to this point in their lives, Kurt had to have learned by now what worked best for them, even it seemed mean or controlling to Cooper. And Blaine clearly had his own coping mechanisms and knew what he needed to keep himself together. 

The couple trusted each other implicitly; it was high time Cooper started to do the same. And that, Cooper realized, was exactly what Jessi had been trying to tell him all this time. He groaned to himself, yet another person he'd have to apologize to. And Jessi never let him live it down when she was right. He smiled at the thought. 

After repeated 'good-bye's, each sappier then the previous one, Blaine finally hung up the phone. "About time," Cooper told him, walking into the room. "I was beginning to think that I would need insulin if you two got any more sugary-sweet." 

"No one forced you to listen in," Blaine grumped at him, though he sat up, making room on the couch. Cooper sat next to him, waving the handful of photos that he hadn’t stuffed away. "I thought maybe you'd tell me about these?" 

The wary look in Blaine's turned to amusement when he saw the pictures were all from his modeling. Blaine took the first, smiling softy. 

"This was my very first runway experience, the Mayflower Fashion Show. Kurt was just beginning to build a name for himself and I was so freaking terrified. I think my shadow was enough to make me jump back then. That was when I met my Jujutsu instructor, Kitten. Kurt hired her as my bodyguard. God, look at how scrawny I was!" He laughed a little. 

"How long was that after Kurt bought you?" Cooper asked curiously, eyeing the image of a smiling, if slightly nervous Blaine as he posed at the opening of the curtains. 

"Oh, umm, just under two months. I mean, I know I look much better than I did in those...other images, but still." Blaine lifted an arm and flexed, showing off the defined, corded muscle that was absent in the old images. Cooper rolled his eyes at the display.

The brothers went through the various shots one by one, watching the progression from Scrawny Blaine with his cautious smiles and scared eyes to the slightly more muscular version sporting a flirty gaze and a wicked grin, to the last ones depicting full, well-defined arms and abs. This Blaine oozed confidence and charm as he stood frozen mid stroll down the runway. They had finished the pictures, the conversation moving onto the latest film scripts Cooper had been offered when the doorbell rang. 

Blaine looked surprised, but hopped up to answer. As soon as he opened the door a middle-aged woman threw her arms around him, holding him smotheringly tight, sobbing into his chest. She walked him backwards into the house, not letting up on her death grip for a second.

"Oomph," Blaine grunted at the impact. "Carol, please, I'm okay. It's alright. I'm good now. Really. Please stop crying, I'm fine. Better than fine, great even." Blaine was patting the woman on the back, continuing to offer his slightly breathless reassurances. Cooper figured his intervention wasn't necessary and stood back, waiting patiently while his brother tried and failed to extricate himself from the woman's grip. 

An older man in a ball cap worked his way around the hugging pair so that he could get into the house. He took the two in, looking amused as he pulled his cap off to rub at his bald head. Blaine looked up at him pleadingly but the man only grinned. 

"You think this is bad, you should have seen her after she read that thing," the man told Blaine. "She had me arranging a manager to cover the shop while she had us packed within an hour." 

He glanced over at Cooper and walked over, offering his hand. "Hi. I'm Burt Hummel, Kurt's dad. I'm guessing you're the guy who sucker punched my son in the gut?"

Cooper flinched at the unfortunate, if accurate, description. He looked over to Blaine, who had succeeded in disentangling himself from Carol. He had his arms crossed over his chest and a disapproving look on his face. Yep, no help there. Apparently, Blaine was still mad at him about that. 

"Uh, I apologized," Cooper offered weakly. "And Blaine put me in a choke hold." He shook Burt's hand with some trepidation, relieved when the big man's grip was firm and brief instead of joint crushingly tight. Kurt’s dad looked tough, and Cooper was fond of his fingers. 

"Yeah, he told me." Burt grinned over at Blaine who smiled back before hastily putting a reassuring arm around Carol's waist when she started getting sniffly again. 

"The beautiful lady your little brother is putting the moves on over there is my wife, Carol. She’s Kurt's stepmom." Carol waved, smiling politely. 

Burt turned to Blaine. "You mind if we move this to the kitchen? 'Cause I'm starving."

"Of course," Blaine broke away and led them that direction. "Should I call Kurt and tell him you're here? If he was expecting you to visit he didn't mention it to me and I just got off the phone with him a little bit ago.”

“Um, we have sandwich stuff, chicken tacos, and spinach lasagna." The last part came out slightly muffled as Blaine buried his head in the fridge.

"Nah, we didn't tell him. I'd rather just talk to you first if you’re okay with that. And chicken tacos sound great," Burt replied. Carol concurred, so Blaine pulled the pan out. 

Blaine warmed up the oven and set out some pita chips and bread, salsa, and hummus on the breakfast bar to graze on while they waited. Given the way both Hummel's went at it, they hadn't stopped to eat on the way. Cooper's stomach reminded him that his breakfast hadn't stayed with him and he helped himself to the hummus.

"So, umm what did you want to talk to me about?" Blaine asked, grabbing a pita. "I'm assuming the article."

"You assume right. You sure you want to do this, kid? It has the potential to stir the pot a little," Burt warned.

Cooper snorted at that, though he eyed Blaine with interest. Blaine seemed to respond really well to the older man. Cooper remembered Blaine had mentioned that Kurt's family adored him. It seemed he hadn't been overstating. It made sense though. A moral code like Kurt's had to come from somewhere, and while kinder treatment of slaves was become more and more the thing, it hadn't quite made as big a dent in the Midwest population as it had on the coast. 

"I've given it a lot of thought, and I'm sure that I want to publish it," Blaine replied, his eyes glued to the salsa as he took a swipe. "And Kurt is on board. I'm going to assume Cooper doesn't mind since he gave my name to the reporter in the first place."

"What?" Carol glared at Cooper. She sighed, shaking her head. "You two are grown men and make your own choices, but if you were my son and you pulled something like that I'd swat you hide." 

"Noted," Cooper replied. He treated her to his best 'Disney Prince' smile, complete with a full dose of his sapphire blue gaze, gratified when her eyes went round and she gasped slightly. He flinched when a rolled ball of pita bread clocked him square in the forehead, breaking the spell. 

"Stop that," Blaine told him, shaking the other half of the pita at him threateningly. He turned back to Burt when Cooper appeared properly chastised, grinning when Carol smacked his brother in the arm. 

Blaine leaned on the breakfast bar. "I meant to talk to you both, though I didn't expect it to be face to face." The chime of the oven briefly distracted him and he put the tacos in. "I need to know your opinion on this. Honestly, more than likely no one will read it, or care, or it will get buried before anyone even gets the chance to see it. But still, if you're uncomfortable..."

"I'm not," Burt interrupted. "This isn't about me. It's about you and Kurt. I know it's your life, but he's the one whose gonna be held responsible if there is a fallout. You belong to him, and any response, good or bad, is gonna hit him square in the teeth. He's a tough kid...man. But you know how he gets. If things get rough, I need to know you'll be there to help him keep it together. I'm not sure you really get just how much he depends on you." 

"I don’t think I did, really. At least until after I met Cooper that first time." Blaine admitted. Burt nodded knowingly. Blaine had talked to him about the whole thing after the fact. He wasn't sure why. Maybe for advice, or out of guilt, or maybe blame or absolution. 

Burt had listened to the whole thing, informed Blaine that he'd screwed the pooch royally, and told him he was proud of him for manning up and taking the necessary steps to fix things. Blaine remembered the conversation clearly. 

"You screw up, you admit it, grovel a little and make up, then you spent the rest of your life making different mistakes and do it all over again," Burt had told him soberly. "That's what being in a relationship is all about. Loving and trusting each other enough to know that you will both screw up, and when you do, the other person will still be there, still with you even if they're hurt or think you suck at that particular moment." Blaine had laughed at that, hearing Burt clear his throat, pretending he hadn't made the accidental innuendo.

"I can't promise I won't freak out, or have panic attacks. Because that still happens as it is. But I can promise I won't leave Kurt hanging. I'll be here no matter what." 

"Then if it's my blessing you're wanting for this, or my support, you got both." Burtl glanced over at Carol who nodded agreement. 

"It's never a bad thing to mix things up a little. We as a species tend to get too complacent and set in our ways," she told him, smiling warmly.

Blaine's phone beeped and he reached over, grinning foolishly at the kissy face image Kurt had snapped him. He texted back that he missed him and it was in Kurt's best interest to make it a short day at the office. He decided to leave Burt and Carol's presence a surprise. Blaine knew if he didn't encourage him to come home, Kurt would stay late so he and Cooper could have private brother time. Blaine didn't really care about that, but they both knew that Cooper had a problem opening up when Kurt was around, so he tended to make himself scarce. 

As soon as he sent the message to Kurt, Blaine wrote a brief message to a number he'd never used, but had memorized a dozen times over, pressing 'send' before he could rethink it.  
****

A phone vibrated silently, shaking the uneven table it rested on, in what could charitably be called a 'dive bar.' The cell’s owner set down the paper he had been reading and checked the message absently. The man raised an eyebrow at the number that popped up. He recognized it, of course. He'd bribed his contact at Verizon $500 to leak it to him. The message was simple enough:

Go for it.

Carson Phillips grinned wolfishly and opened his laptop, sending the email he'd been holding on to for weeks. This was going to be fun.


	16. Epilogue

Cooper opened the back gate the Hummel house and made his way around the ridiculously large pool towards the open space at the rear of the yard. He curved around the waterfall just in time to watch his brother tumble head over heels onto the grass. The numerous green stains on Blaine’s white tank top suggested this wasn't the first time he'd kissed dirt. Blaine smoothly rolled back to his feet, instantly taking a defensive stance. 

"Sloppy," a feminine voice chided, making a condescending tsk tsk noise as she approached. Blaine watched warily as the small girl moved ever closer. "This must be embarrassing for you. It certainly is for me." 

Without warning her fist flew out in a low punch that looked like it would've been really painful had it landed. Instead, Blaine danced quickly out of the way, pivoting to throw a high kick at her head. She caught his foot at full extension, yanking it forward and twisting. Cooper winced as Blaine was once again flung to the ground.

"That's a lie," Blaine told her, groaning as he climbed slowly back his feet and once again assumed the defensive stance. "You wouldn't know embarrassment if it smacked you across the head." 

The comment evoked a bark of laughter from the redhead. "You make a good point," she conceded, gesturing for Blaine to take the offensive. A short exchange of blows later and Blaine went flying over her shoulder. "But this is about as close to the emotion as I think I could get." She reached a hand down and pulled Blaine back to his feet. "Go sit down before you hurt yourself." 

Growling something under his breath, Blaine followed the order and trotted over to the bench holding the water bottles. He pulled off his sweat soaked shirt and dumped a bottle of water over his head, thoroughly soaking himself before sitting down. 

"Well, hello sexy," a voice purred in Cooper's ear, making him grin. Santana goosed him as she walked past, a vision in bright red spandex. Blaine looked up at her words, scowling when he saw Cooper. 

"You really shouldn't witness this, Coop," Blaine grumped. "It's too painful." 

They both knew he wasn't referring to the physical pain, though Cooper's brother was sporting several bruises in a myriad of healing colors along his bare torso. 

"24601 over there speaks the truth," Kitten agreed, formally bowing to Santana as the two took up sparring positions.

"You did better than I would've," Cooper offered in consolation, sitting next to his wet and dented brother. 

Cooper watched with interest as Santana transitioned smoothly from position to position as she sparred with her Sensei, dodging punches and kicks with a fluidity that made it appear that she was made of water. Kitten caught her arm mid punch and did an over-the-shoulder throw that the Latina somehow managed to keep her feet for, twisting out of the grip as soon as she landed. 

Blaine whistled and clapped enthusiastically. "Nice one, 'Tana." He looked over at his brother. "Kitten has been in a mood all morning and for some reason decided to take it out on my hide. She's a horrible person and deserves to be tossed in the pool."

Kitten dropped for a low leg-sweep that knocked Santana on her ass, then turned to grin at Blaine with a bright, innocent smile. "I'd absolutely love for you to try it." 

Santana didn't wait for Kitten to turn back around before attacking, and the two swiftly dove back into battle, dancing across the lawn in a flurry of motion. 

"I was doing better, earlier," Blaine commented as he gulped from a bottle of water. "I defy anyone to make a decent showing after over an hour of training with that little witch." Kitten laughed, but wisely didn't take her eyes off her opponent as Santana circled her. 

"Breakfast will be ready in 25 minutes," Kurt called as he walked up to the group. "Blaine, I made a spice cake in honor of the glad tidings." Finn followed behind, smiling warmly and exchanging a handshake with Cooper. The two had formed an odd friendship and Finn was spending less time working for Kurt, slowly transitioning to personal assistant for the popular actor. 

"So, what's the big news?" Cooper asked curiously. He'd been invited over the previous evening for a celebratory brunch, and he'd never quite gotten around to asking what they were celebrating. 

"Kate Middleton is pregnant with triplets!" Kurt announced, beaming. Blaine was grinning as well, looking equally thrilled. 

"Yess..." Cooper agreed slowly. "I may have heard something about it. It's only the only thing everyone is talking about..." Oh. Well, now everything was beginning to made sense.

He clapped his brother warmly on the shoulder. "So, no more limelight for you, 'eh?" 

"That's the way it's looking," Blaine agreed, not even trying to hide his relief. The last year and a half had been a wild ride for the slave, who'd taken to hiding in the house most of the time. 

Contrary to Blaine's jaded belief, the Carson Phillips article had not been buried or ignored. It had taken off like wildfire, earning the reporter international acclaim and a Pulitzer, while initiating a bevy of new laws to promote appropriate slave care, the first of which illegalized the acquisition of any freeborn citizen. 

The Office of Slave Affairs firmly maintained that technically nothing illegal had occurred during Blaine's acquisition, and therefore there was no reason to suggest his status could be changed. But legal actions had been set in motion to prevent anyone else from sharing his fate. 

In addition, several new laws outlining the ethical treatment of slaves were worming their way through congress, with PETS, a new offshoot of PETA, footing the bill for the lobbyists. The fact that there were more legal ramifications for mistreatment of the family cat then for a slave had brought several uncomfortable facts to light regarding the institution, and everyone seemed to agree that something had to change, though there was a fair amount of debate regarding to what extent. 

The current bill circulating through congress required adequate physical care for all slaves, as well as a no-questions-asked return policy for any slaves declared unwanted or abandoned, and strict regulation of humane euthanasia. The Office of Slave Affairs was being completely revamped with new staff, their responsibilities and goals rewritten to include ensuring that slaves are receiving proper care as well as the group's more traditional regulatory role. The days of the starving hotel slave were over, as state laws mandating that all slaves be provided adequate nutrition had already taken effect in the majority of the country. 

A Son's Worth, a play based on Blaine's bestselling biography, was still one of the top hits on Broadway, with touring groups traveling throughout the country. The movie had recently finished shooting and was due to be released shortly, with Daniel Radcliff playing the lead. 

Cooper had actually been considered to play the role of himself, only to be replaced by Ryan Gosling when he'd ultimately declined. The book itself had spent no small amount of time on the New York Time's Best Seller's list. 

All of which meant that Kurt never needed to work a day again for the rest of his life. He’d given over the majority of his label to his favorite designer from his team. He still designed, but only on specific commission and for his friends, having lost the taste for fashion shows long ago. Cooper too, had been paid handsomely for his bevy of interviews and his booming popularity guaranteed him virtually any type of movie role he was interested in playing. 

Of the multitude of events to occur in Blaine's life, the most surreal for him was the call from an agent for the ELLEN show. She wanted to have him in for an interview, making him the first slave to ever be interviewed on a talk show. 

After an enormous amount of time spent soul-searching, three panic attacks that wouldn't stop until he was safely tucked in Kurt's arms, and one intense argument with Santana that had ended with the two of them sparring, Blaine had elected not to do the show. The idea of sitting there with all those lights on him in front of a live audience while he was asked questions was just more than he could handle. 

He offered a compromise, suggesting a private interview that could be taped, provided that Kurt could be with him the whole time. It was the only interview Blaine gave, and it proved more than enough for him. Fortunately, he'd met Ellen's personal slave prior to the event, and she'd seemed about as happy and content a slave as Blaine had ever met, making him relax considerably before the successful interview. 

Given that Blaine had spent over a year essentially trapped at home, he'd found himself with copious amounts of time to fill. He spent hours playing the piano and guitar, and trained daily with Kitten and Santana. Blaine had never forgotten that Cooper and Jessi had given up their honeymoon to save money to find him, and resolved to make it up to them. He poured over travel brochures, torn between a private island resort and Ireland, though he was leaning towards the latter since they already lived in California.

Another oddity that had taken some adjusting to was random women walking up to him and hugging him whenever he was out and about. It happened all the time and was supremely disconcerting. Kurt theorized that with his boy-next-door youthful looks. The moms took one look at him and saw their own children, and just had to touch and know that he was okay.

Cooper proved to be a godsend. He had no trouble with attention and readily took his preferred place in the spotlight, shielding Blaine from much of the drama in the process. Reporters generally seemed just as happy to talk to him lieu of Blaine. Positive and negative responses, Cooper handled it all with perfect charm and panache. Blaine had never been happier to have such an attention-whore for his sibling. 

And Kurt was...Kurt. He protected Blaine as best he could, supported his decisions, held him when he was overwhelmed and all in all proved to be the best, most amazing partner Blaine had never dreamed he could have. Through it all, the paparazzi, the hate mail, the rabid fans, accusations and drama, Kurt’s stalwart, constant presence was the only thing that allowed Blaine to endure all the crazy that had become his life. 

Not that the criticisms heaped on Kurt rolled off harmlessly. Just as any money earned technically went to him as Blaine's owner, so did all the blame for his slave's actions. There had been many nights, far too many in Blaine's opinion, when Kurt had returned home only to collapse on their bed in tears, the stress and constant spotlight becoming more that even his strong shoulders could bear. 

Blaine had many opportunities to regret his decision to come out with his story, but never more so then when he saw how affected his lover could become from the events swirling around them. Blaine did the only thing he could, holding Kurt tight, whispering words of love and affection, and watched in awe as Kurt pulled a phoenix time after time, rising anew to face the next hurdle with head high and proud. 

Kitten's reappearance in their lives right as the article was being published was just coincidental enough to be nothing of the sort. She had stayed with Kurt and Blaine for the duration, occasionally donning a horrible suit and cheesy sunglasses to act as bodyguard for the couple. Her company during Blaine's year long lock-down had been a constant source of relief and frustration for the slave, but he appreciated her presence more than he'd ever tell her. 

But, like all things newsworthy, the noise had eventually died down and reporters were moving on to the next big thing. Which in this case proved to be the British Princess' swollen abdomen. To say that Blaine was relieved was the quintessential understatement. He'd discussed the feasibility of sending flowers to the royal family on more than one occasion since the joyous news was released. 

The sound of the back gate opening halted the sparring match. Santana did a double take as a tall, blued eyed, familiar looking young man let himself into the yard. 

"Hello," he called as he made his way around the pool. The man eyed Kitten warily, giving the girl wide berth. Her toothy smile in response suggested the two may have had a run in previously, and the man’s obvious caution spoke well his sense of self-preservation. 

"Carson," Cooper nodded politely as he greeted the reporter while the two shook hands. Carson looked good, his suit a stylish, perfectly tailored charcoal-grey piece that had to be one of Kurt's. He hadn't realized the two were still interacting on that level. "What's up?"

"Nothing untoward," Carson responded easily. "I’m just dropping off the mail." He handed the large bag he'd been carrying over to Kurt before making his way to Blaine. Reaching into his messenger bag, he pulled out a thick stack of envelopes rubber banded together and handed them over.

Pursing his lips, Blaine accepted the small bundle unhappily. "Thank you, Sir," he told the reporter politely. 

Carson nodded, looking like he wanted to say more but ultimately deciding to keep his peace. Kurt walked over and wrapped a supportive arm around Blaine's waist, ignoring the sweaty wet mess as Blaine pressed up against him.

"What are those?" Cooper asked curiously. A glance at Carson told him it'd be a cold day in hell before the reporter gave out any information. Finn just shrugged at him and Kurt and Blaine were busy staring at each other, doing that weird silent communication thing they had. It was Kitten who piped up with an answer.

"Those would be correspondences from Mr. and Mrs. Anderson. They don't know this address and Kurt had their letters blocked at his businesses so they go to our dear Mr. Phillips over there," she told him easily, her sharp gaze falling on the reporter. 

Carson flinched, and subtly maneuvered so Santana was between him and Kitten. "Just because I can't hit you doesn't mean I'm not ducking out of the way of her, Sir," the Latina warned him. Cooper wondered what Carson had to done to earn the wrath of the fierce girls, but given what he knew of the man's personality, it was probably just Carson being Carson. 

Kurt's phone went off and he quickly silenced the timer. "The stuffed croissants are ready," he declared. 

"Oh thank god, I'm starving," Finn announced, swiftly leading the way back to the house. 

"Stay and eat, Carson," Kurt invited as he always did, as he and Blaine made their way inside. 

As they passed the pool, Blaine tossed the little packet of letters into the gently rolling water. Carson watched them bob for a minute, then shook his head and followed everyone inside.

Cooper stayed behind, staring at the letters and watching as they slowly dissolved into a waterlogged pile of mush. He'd gotten his share, of course. They resided in a shoebox in the coat closet. Cooper hadn't opened them, but he couldn't quite make himself throw them away either. 

Of course, his parent hadn't sold Cooper like a spare car. Despite blocking their numbers, the senior Andersons had continuously tried to reach him, and apparently Blaine as well, though his brother hadn't mentioned it to him. Cooper suspected Jessi might be in communication with his parents, though he never asked and she didn't volunteer anything. Mentally shrugging, he turned and headed inside toward the sound of little brother's bright laughter and the smell of frying bacon.

He'd heard that the Andersons had sold their business and house, moving Cooper didn't care where after A Son's Worth had first hit bookshelves. Blaine had narrated for Kurt, who did the actual writing, being more literarily inclined then Cooper's musically talented brother. Carson had given his input to the project as well, freely sharing any research or pictures he'd collected. 

The siblings had come together to watch the one brief, disastrous interview their father had put out right after the article had been published, a desperate attempt to defend his actions. James Anderson had made the foolish choice of asking Carson to cover the telling of his side of the story and the reporter had, with perfect objectivity, eaten him alive. 

The photos of James' young son, starved and sexually used were damning, and no amount of explanations regarding the nebulous risk of jail time or financial concerns for future grandchildren could compete. Evelyn Anderson had sat silently beside her husband for the interview, not even attempting to defend their actions. 

Seeing the evidence of her youngest naked and abused and knowing it was completely her fault had broken something in the woman. Evelyn completely agreed with every hateful, awful thing said about them. Blaine had watched her during his father's interview and recognized the look in her eyes; it was the same one he'd seen reflected in his all those years ago when he used to dream of taking the stairs to the roof of the hotel and jumping to freedom from the pain. 

Kurt was the only one who knew he'd broken the silence with his parents to send his mother a message. It simply read Don't even think about it. Blaine had no idea that his mother carried it everywhere, and had written him a response every single day after that. She had every intention of continuing to do so for the rest of her life, whether her son ever read them or not. 

James Anderson had actually managed to track Blaine down to talk at one point, cornering him in back lot of KH Studios, shaking the shocked slave and demanding that he make a statement publically forgiving his parents. James explained that their life had been ruined since the article had emerged. They'd become pariahs in their social circle and essentially had to go into hiding just to live without constant threats and public disgust. 

The violent meeting had resulted in a whopper of a panic attack in Blaine, a nasty black eye for James courtesy of Kitten, and the man being hauled away while Wes followed, explaining exactly how many ways he planned on suing the man. 

Kurt had found them shortly after and taken his shaken boyfriend home. It had taken days of being constantly blanketed by Kurt's patient handling before Blaine was able to come out of his slave headspace. 

On the plus side, the senior Hummels suffered very little in the way of collateral damage. They were removed enough from the situation that the reporters left them alone and most the people in their little Ohio town had either never heard of KH Designs at all, or never made the connections between the neighborhood mechanic and the fancy clothing line. To both Kurt and Blaine’s delight, Burt and Carol had come to stay with them for several months while the older couple shopped the neighborhood for a house.

After much cajoling and lecturing from his son, Burt had finally agreed to retire early. Kurt had long ago become successful enough to provide for his family. Carol was firmly on her step-son's side, being more than ready to retire from a life spent on her feet, and wanted to spend as much time as she could relaxing with her husband. Rachel's announcement that Finn was going to be a father had been the last push Burt needed, and they had moved into a home down the block from Kurt and Blaine's where they could be a steady presence in their kid's and future grandchild's life. 

Cooper took full advantage of the situation and frequently dumped his twins on the retired couple, to Blaine's annoyance and Carol's delight. She adored the young children that so resembled their uncle. 

And now, the royal family was having triplets. Blaine had been slowly reacquainting himself with the world and it looked like things really were slowing down for him. There had never been a celebrity happier to watch their fame disappear into the sweet abyss of yesterday's news. 

The sound of the front door closing and a bright chirpy voice signaled the arrival of Rachel, and Blaine cheerfully dodged around Kurt in the kitchen to fill her a cup with decaf. He heard Burt's deeper greeting a moment later and smiled at Rachel when she pulled him in for a hug.  
***

Blaine sat quietly in a fluffy chair, taking in the scene around him, absently rubbing a thumb around the warm coffee cup he clutched in his hands. Rachel sat on a kitchen stool, stroking her rounded abdomen while Finn hovered over her shoulder. Carol and Burt leaned against the breakfast bar chatting animatedly with Jessi while Kurt finished with the last of the dishes. 

The sounds of screechy laughter from the window told him Kitten was outside on twin-duty, being one of the only people in creation with enough energy to wear out Blaine's niece and nephew. Cooper caught his eye and winked, his expression cheerful as he casually flirted with Santana. 

Blaine was overwhelmed by just how very impossible a turn his life had taken. He had friends, family who loved him unconditionally, and a better home then he could ever have dreamed of. Even if he could go back in time and try to explain to slave-him that he needed to hang on just a little longer, that this is where he would end up, Blaine wouldn't bother. 

The person he was back then was incapable of comprehending that this level of happiness and contentment even existed. And knowing what he did now, he wouldn't change a thing. Every beating, days without eating, harsh use, limping his way from room after room to a broken cot had all led him to this place. It was a price he gladly paid for what he had now. 

He set his cup down and stretched, smiling when he felt strong fingers glide through his freshly scrubbed curls. "Well hey, handsome," Kurt purred, settling himself into Blaine's lap. "Is this seat taken?" 

Blaine laughed, wrapping his arms around his amazing lover. Kurt. Kurt was the beginning of Blaine's story. He was Blaine's now and his forever. He'd found Blaine torn and broken and carefully patched every thin, worn spot with threads of love and trust, slowly rebuilding Blaine into something new and beautiful and whole. 

Blaine leaned forward and kissed him softly on the lips, slipping his tongue inside his lover's hot mouth, chasing the remnant flavors of coffee and maple syrup. Kurt pulled away, giggling softly and wrapping an arm around Blaine's neck. 

"Are you okay, baby? You've been kinda quiet, way over here by yourself."

Blaine sighed, letting the complete contentment he felt in this moment flow through him. "Yes, I'm good. I'm perfect, actually." Blaine's eyes glittered, bright and golden as he looked into Kurt's stormy blue gaze, so full of love that it took his breath away. 

Perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that is all. I've had a few requests for snippets from my super awesome reviewers, and I have one or two ideas that I think I'll start on soon. I'm trying my hand at a character I've never thought about beyond a line or two, so that should be fun. Thank you everyone who read, thank you with cupcakes if you threw in a kudos or a review, and happy Klaining!


End file.
